Gregory Kearns

      Perfume Stranger, you smell like my dead dad. I have a cloud of weepy nostalgia for whatever perfume you have bought and wear. Stranger, what is this scent called? If I’d had to guess I would say it smells of lilies, but I don’t know what lilies...

Paul Grant

      When to stop eating chalk I am watching my niece Draw on the back door step With chalk Squiggles Almost shapes Almost something Going forward I will have no advice To give her About all of this About anything really Hopefully she’ll have the...

William Stephenson

      On the Origin of Electrofunk by Natural Selection Our fingers sprouted claws; our foreheads, feelers. Wires shook and gourds boomed in our hands, paws, podia.  We danced in spirals, bees on acid house: this rising buzz for louder, this spiral that...

Chrissy Banks

    If you don’t come back I will turn to the woods. To winter woods trees rising above their heap of leaves. I’ll turn to the hills that endure rain, flood, fog, snow and storm the worst winds and fires of full sun. I will follow the river that keeps on...

Jack Little

      The Metro After 1AM Each station marks an anonymous arrival. Behind screens, each tunnel descent is metal cold and hot air, cutting deeper into the Earth bright lights blinking on the city’s last bend before the volcanic rock, the lake bed, the...