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The Ocean Won't Give Him Back to Us

Jane Medved

You have found out that someone dies every two seconds. This shouldn’t make you feel better, but it does.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

2 Poems

Paúl Puma, transl. by Jonathan Simkins

You return, at last. / At the edge no longer./ At the margin’s curve no longer. / Circular no longer. / In the embers of unfading foam. / The sputum of inscrutable lava.

Voyage: Happening in an Egg

Megan McHugh

Why did he shape my brother’s body to the contours of war? Is this the shape of all our language already?

A Door, Prone, Crushing a Field of Flowers

Michael Schmeltzer

I am at my threshold. / The dirt of our daughter. / The mole of her squirming body.

In the Valley of Whatever, I

Katherine Gibbel

I love expectation // beauty subsumed

From the Archives

Taking My Dog to The Opera

Charlotte Matthews

Who would have thought he’d sit / so still so long, but he settles right / into our row, props his head on the velvet / armrest basking in the company

Schisma and Prix Fixe

Lisa Nikolidakis

Schisma For ten euro, you’ll rest easy aboard Posidonia, the smoothest ship in all of Schisma. Happily we’ll sail to Kalydon, just twenty minutes across…

Chatroulette

Hilary Vaughn Dobel

Ghost of my own design, was it your / gloved hands tracing out my spine the night / I lied my way into the ER, hoping / to be touched?

By the Light of Other Suns

Janie Paul

We talked about light and dark, how to render it in paintings and drawings, and how it connects to spirit. We talked about Emerson and Thoreau. They connected their faiths to mine, to the pantheism I developed out there in the woods, and to art as faith. As I worked with artists in prison over the next couple of decades, I continued to see this transcendental connection to light and dark through their eyes.

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