PluralitiesRalph AdamoI hate that you are on the other side this eveningIf I go somewhere to cry for you how will I stopI hope this finds you well. It...
Heat Goes Out Walking in the ColdK. A. HaysIt seems possible, and I've been told,that even the dying, who don't mean to,stow at the ribs yello...
Low TideAlan ShapiroOn the mud flatswhere I’m walkingeach step pushes the wetout from beneath itto a dry haloof a heel and toewhich as I lift it...
RelicPatricia HooperHere is a bird's breastbone,the keel of a ship scrubbed cleanof its cargo and rigging, its rib cagelaid bare in this harbor of...
Folk TaleChelsea Woodard for Nonny HogrogianIn the story, I remember a hungry young fox rendered in pastels. He has stolenfrom a strict-manne...
About OperaGeoffrey Brock Fuggirmi io sol non soIn the real world, lighting is undesigned;here it's high art. After we find our seats,silen...
School of Practical DissectionKenny WilliamsIn the hands of the priestthe heart has to breaklike crockery, for a single man,not the human racewhich we...
The Dream of a Little Occupied Japan DollKimiko HahnAmong the hundred porcelain figurines,the first one -- with slanted eyes, fat cheeks,queue (though...
Sonnet for the MisbegottenJill BialoskyThe surfers are on deck in black divingpenguin suits, fins on their feet -- surfer schoolfor the youth of the r...
Walking a LabyrinthDouglas GoetschEleanor, who is drivingme to the AtlanticCity bus station,asks if I wouldn'tmind stoppingat a labyrinthin Longpo...