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Vo l . 7 N o . 1

Matthew Campbell Roberts

Out of Emptiness I pulled off the road near the Skagit River, below Newhalem, and hiked through old growth to a small waterfall at the mouth of a creek and sat there feeling empty for no particular reason, maybe a culmination of worries about someone who said something that bothered me, my destination that day, or the future. I stretched out under the sky, listening to the river telling its story. For those minutes, nothing mattered. My mind became the river, then an island; and at the edge of the current, a blue heron, stalking shallows for smolts. We peered through the same glacial-green water for a fish to dart by. After no luck, he lifted his wings and lunged into the mossy corridor. I held its orange eye in my eye until he cleared the bend. I was alone again, looking skyward. The sound of the waterfall merged with the river’s voices. I glanced back at the island to where the heron worked the shoreline, and I realized that out of emptiness something else could go on.


Sheary Clough Suiter and Nard Claar

Deborah Chava Singer

Her Own Name

 (hot and hungry) she could smell lust on the fingertips of her lover she tasted desire as their bodies pressed in and as she grabbed hard and screamed she forgot all the political ramifications of pleasure (waiting to sleep) wrapped in blankets, appendages, and sentiments she wondered if one day she wouldn’t have to choose between being honest and good enough

On Rainy River

Pam Butcher

(after she woke) she laid her head back into the soft pillows she could smell the intimacy in the air and on her fingers and as she plied through secrets and folds of skin she closed her eyes and called out her own name

Cirque, Vol. 7 No. 1  

A Literary Journal for the North Pacific Rim

Cirque, Vol. 7 No. 1  

A Literary Journal for the North Pacific Rim