Cat Turhan

      Hand-shell After Dora Maar Divide a woman’s body into geometric shapes. Triangle tits, a six-pointed star. Segment a woman’s face into orange slices. Split it through a spider’s web. Float a woman in a pool. Swim statue-stiff, your hand-shell on...

Robert Nisbet

      The Fringe For days, weeks, I’d longed quite hard for silence, as the weighted ache of noise loured. Then, Sunday morning, three o’clock, humid morning-night, the window open, there came a silence fringed with scents (our lane half-in, half-out of...

Steph Ellen Feeney

      The brief invisibility of fathers I do not draw but here I do. Heavy looping lines. That scar of road. Weeds through the stones. The olive tree, persisting. Wild fennel, and him bent over it. The way that he inhales the leaves. Pours rice like...

John Tustin

      We Are Alike We are alike, you and me. We are alike. You die of love, I die of love. You die without love, I die without love. We live to love, We live without love, We live until we die And then You must die alone, I must die alone. You and me,...