Carolina Quarterly 61.2

Page 1


| F I C T I O N | E S S AY S | R E V I E W S

FALL 2011 ISSUE | VOL. 61, NO. 2


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ABOVE | 3}bÂ? +§Ă‚€FFĂ‹ Ă?½½8O†¾ kudu-lah COVER | The Three Graces, Thorvaldsen Museum


www.theca r o l i n a q u a r ter l y. co m





(}€‡ +8�Y€O†

Bhumi Dalia

Matthew Harvey

Lindsay Starck

Heather Van Wallendael

Lee Norton



Ted Scheinman

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Matthew Hotham | E D I TO R- I N - C H I E F , * +U +}8Â?Â?‘Â? b8Š‘Â?V €²¾½bÂ? }8Â?uV +O‘½½ 8ĂˆÂ€ÂľV 8Â?Â?8} ‘O†b²Ă‹V 8Â?YĂ‹ €Y¾‘Â?V b‡¾bĂ‹ ‘¾½b²V bu8Â? 8²Â‡bĂ‹V ‘²Y8Â? ‘Â?¾‘Â?V ²Â€¾½bÂ? ‘}Â?¾‘Â?V Ă?‡€Ob 8²½Â€Â?V bÂ? €‡‡b²V Â€ĂˆÂ€8 b‡¾‘Â?V (bĂ‹½Â‘Â? *€‡bĂ‹V Kevin Rothenberg, Liana Roux, Rachel Shope, Brittany Spruill, Nathan Vail, and William Wright FICTION READERS: 8Ă‚²8 bÂ?Â?b½½V b‡¾bĂ‹ ‘¾½b²V Ă?‡€Ob 8²½Â€Â?V Â€ĂˆÂ€8 b‡¾‘Â?V 8Yb‡€Â?b *8¾†Â‡€Â?bOĂŽV b²²Â‘Y *‘¾bÂ?F8ŠV bÂ? ,}‘ŠÂ?¾‘Â?V 78O}8²Ă‹ 2b²Â?‘Â?V ¢ 8Š8² 3€‡¾‘Â?V 8Â?Y 8½b 5‘ÂÂ?u POETRY READERS: Katy Bowler, Taylor Burklew, Melissa Golding, and Rachel Kiel NON-FICTION READERS: Š€‡Ë 8Â?†¾V €²¾½bÂ? }8Â?uV 8Â?YĂ‹ €Y¾‘Â?V ‘Â?8½}8Â? (8½½Â€Âľ}8‡‡V 8Â?Y ²Â€½½8Â?Ă‹ +Â?²Ă‚€‡‡



CONTENTS FALL 2011 | VOL. 61, NO. 2

P O E T RY 12



CHRIS DUNSMORE | Reality Orientation

I Couldn’t Tell What Happened 30

AMORAK HUEY | The Men at the Block Party

The Globe of Death Motorcyclist Faces His Worst Spheres The Letter X Imagines His Funeral Precautions Against Altitude Sickness 63

JOE GALLAGHER | Delta of Lost Hippos

Unsmoothly 67

CLAIRE WAHMANHOLM | Postcard from the Great Wall

Family Portrait: Red Square North 88

STEPHANIE E. SCHLAIFER | From the Old Northwest

Swath Native Plants and Animals 96

MAMIE MORGAN | Them, Hardly

Her Ninth Wintering Flocking


NAHAL S. JAMIR | In Perfect English




AARON GWYN | Sweet Relief













| The Poem Lust I Still Have


JASMINE V. BAILEY | Devotions by Bruce Smith

A RT 6

JUSTIN RAMSEY | The Ugly Swan Up Above It All


JUSTIN RAMSEY | Super Nova Siren


JUSTIN RAMSEY | Exclamation Station




KUDU-LAH | Èb ² ½½b²µ


JUSTIN RAMSEY | Contemplation Station


DARIC GILL | Comparison


JUSTIN RAMSEY | Channeling






| The Ugly Swan Up Above It All


In Perfect English Minutes ago, the mother began cooking. The kitchen is already o bY É ½} 8 bO bO½ O Y ²V µ}8² 8 Y µÉbb½ 8½ ½}b µ8 b ½ bV ½} Âu} ½}b µ b n buu 8 ½ Y 8½bµ¢ 8 µ} ²½ É} bV µ}b É o µ} ½}b Ybµµb²½¢ +}b Fbu8 ½}b Ybµµb²½ Y8˵ 8u ¢ Ð YµV F bY 8 Y bb bY FË }8 YV 8Ë drying in the laundry room. Odd to begin with the end of the meal, but the end is the best part, where everything makes sense. The mother has been watching her children, one boy and one girl, +8 8 Y ÐÎ8²V µ Ob ½}b Y8Ë b8O} O8 b ½ n }b² F YËi8 Y b8O} Y Y so quickly, like lightning from a cloud. They struck her down. She hadn’t Fbb 8F b ½ ½ ÂO} ½}b 8½ o²µ½ FbO8µb n nb8² ²V 8µ ½}b Y O½ ²µ µ8 YV numbness. She didn’t see much of a difference between fear and numbness; one was the cause, the other the effect. Regardless, in the beginning, she could only look. Not until much later did love accompany the watching, but she will never tell because a mother is supposed to love from the beginning. The secret allows her to be a proper mother. The children are out on the porch, which is green like a wine bottle, long like a ship. There is an old practice of putting ships in bottles. +}  Y µ}b F Y }b² O} Y²b ½}µ¨ Ð É8˵ ½}b²b F½ 8 É8˵ ²b8YË ½ b8Èb¢ ½¯µ }8²Y ½ É É}b²b ½}b n²8u ½Ë bµU É Y ² u 8µµV µ½ ness or motion. Will it be home or the outside world that kills them? They’re outside so her son can smoke. She wishes he wouldn’t but is glad the children are home. They come back rarely, and she cannot recall the last time she cooked for someone other than her husband. He is sleeping upstairs. He doesn’t eat enough. But the children, since leaving home, have developed appetites twice as large as the ones they left with. They return ravenous, and she cannot decide if their hunger emerges from a lack of sustenance or insatiability. Regardless, she will feed them. Nourishment is what children should receive at home. They return to remember that they should not starve, that she will not let them.




I Couldn’t Tell What Happened There is a metaphoric truth fundamental to the subject’s experience within the narrative structure of his or her life story, ²bu8²Y bµµ n ½µ oO½ 8 b b b ½µ ² ½}b ½Ë b n µ½ ²Ë ½ Y¢ ,}b ½}b² u}½h O  Y ¯½ ½b É}8½ }8 b bY¢ 5  Y Y ¯½ É what had happened. He didn’t know why she just blanked out, so they O  Y ¯½ bÊ 8 ½ ½ b¢ 3b Éb²b µ½ o b 8 Y ½8 u ½ Ë Âi8 Y then all of a sudden he didn’t recognize her voice anymore. They didn’t ²bO u Îb b¢ + ½}²bb ½} uµ µ½8²½bY ½ }8 b 8 8½ ObU Éb Y Y ¯½ ²bO u Îb Ë ÂV }b Y Y ¯½ ²bO u Îb }b²V 8 Y ½}b ² É8µ O} u b¢ Ð Y bÈb²Ë½} u u ½ ½ } ½· Éb µ½8²½bY nbb u µ O · Ë Â Éb²b ½b²² obY¢ b wasn’t sure where she was; they weren’t sure it was me there; we weren’t µÂ²b É} Ë Â Éb²b· }b É8µ ¯½ µÂ²b 8F ½ 8 ˽} u¢ Ð Y µ}b O  Y ¯½ µ8Ë what was happening because they didn’t know what was happening. ,} µ µ½8²½bY ½ }8 b Ë ½b²È bÉ bb½ u ½ ¢ ½¯µ Fbb }8 b u Èb² 8 Y Èb²¢ ½ 8 ½}²bb ½} uµi µ½ ² O} u Ë Â¢ É }b ½} µ µ}b ɵ É}8½ ½ u}½¯Èb Fbb ¢ ,}bË ½} É what somehow set this off. Earlier in the session, we were looking at your arms, and he thought, “She has strong arms. Their arms could O} b b¢­ 3b É Â Y ¯½ Y ½V Ë Â ÉV }b ½²Âµ½µ }b²V F½ ½}bË O  Y¢ ¯ bÈb µ½² ub² ½}8 ² ½}b²¢ ¯½ Fb 8Y 8½ Ë Â²µb n¢




The Men at the Block Party We linger naked as beer bottles, searching for words that taste of smoke or gravel. We gaze with lost eyes 8½ ² É ÈbµV ½}b ² buµ¢ ² O} Y²b U 8 b µ½²b8 µV ½ Ë o²bµ at the edge of our vision. We are keepers of a ghost ship }b²b ½}b b8² Ë ½Éb ½Ë o²µ½ Ob ½Â²Ë Ð b² O8U this time and place reserved precisely for us. We try ½ ½ Fb Y µ8 ½bY ½}b Fb Y u n q Éb²µV the bare spots where our grass will not grow. Our veins rope and pulse and promise, give voice to the dangers that languish unspoken in our bodies. 3b nb8² F² b É Y ÉV n²8ÂYV Éb o Y }8 bµµ in the syncopation of weather and family schedules. The moon unmoors. We drift toward its yawn.



Precautions Against Altitude Sickness My brain is altar, fuse, noise. Time periscopes and straddles. 8 8 8²O} ½bO½¯µ ²b Yb² u¢ 8 } u} n8µ} V O ²O 8² µ½8 ²O8µbV ² n½ u8²Yb ¢ 8 Ë Â² n8È ² ½b µbO²b½¢ 8 8 ½²8 È u µ É Ë through a strange country. One with thin air, whitecapped mountains. Home to many towns full of chocolate where interesting people fall in love over bottles of wine, cups of strong coffee,  µÂ8 8µ½² bµ¢ Ð Y ½}b b Y8Ë the quaint gaslights on main street fail, and in this dark your eyes blaze like pennies. This is the opposite of lonely.






| Engram: Holiness




| Engram: Sisterly

Riding a Gradient Invisible Contest Winners of The Carolina Quarterly’s *€Y€Â?u 8 ²8Y€bÂ?½ Â?ĂˆÂ€ÂľÂ€F‡b ‘Â?½b¾½U First Place: ÂŹĂ?Šb²Â€O8Â? b¾€²b­ FĂ‹ 8ŠbÂľ O 8½½b² Runner-up: ÂŹ €n½­ FĂ‹ ‘²½Â?bĂ‹ +bÂ?Yb² Runner-up: ÂŹbÂ?€½8Â?} à š­ FĂ‹ 8½½}bÉ 2‘‡‡Šb² Honorable Mention: ÂŹ ‘Â?Y€½Â€Â‘Â?¾­ FĂ‹ Ă?8²Â‘Â? ²Â‘‡ Honorable Mention: ÂŹ 8½8¾½²Â‘Â?}€‡€8­ FĂ‹ 8²Â‘‡€Â?b 5‘ÂÂ?u Â? 8Ă‹V Éb Ă‚Â?Ăˆb€‡bY ½}b *€Y€Â?u 8 ²8Y€bÂ?½ Â?ĂˆÂ€ÂľÂ€F‡b ‘Â?½b¾½V 8Â? bĂŠÂ?b²Â€ÂŠbÂ?½ €Â? ÂŹ+}‘ÉV Y‘Â?¯½ ½b‡‡¢­ 3b 8¾†bY ˑ ½Â‘ ÂľbÂ?Y Ă‚Âľ ˑ² Â?‘b½Â€O q8Âľ} oO½Â€Â‘Â?V ˑ² q8Âľ}Ă‹ Â?²Â‘Âľb Â?‘b½²Ă‹V ˑ² ½Ă‰Â€½½b² ‘Â?b²b½½8V ˑ² Â?‘¾½ Â?²b Â?b‘ Ă‚Â? ‘bĂ‚Ăˆ²b ½Â‘ Fb O‘Â?¾€Yb²bY n‘² Â?Ă‚F‡€O8½Â€Â‘Â? FĂ‹ Ă?Ă‚uĂ‚¾½ ˜¾½¢ 5b8²Â?€Â?u n‘² 8 Â?‘¾½ ubÂ?²b ɑ²Â‡YV we sought writing that could not be described in an elevator, and yet could be YbÂ‡Â€Ăˆb²bY €Â? ‘Â?b¢ 8O} bĂŠÂ?b²Â€ÂŠbÂ?½ O‘‡Y }8Ăˆb Â?‘ Š‘²b ½}8Â? pĂ?Ă? ɑ²Y¾¢ Ă?‡‡ ɀÂ?ners of this contest are published in this issue on the following pages and will be featured in our online edition. ,}b Â…Ă‚Yub n‘² ½}€¾ O‘Â?½b¾½ É8Âľ Ă?ŠË bŠÂ?b‡¢ bŠÂ?b‡ €¾ ½}b ²Â€uuÂľ ‘Â?b‡8Â?Y bO½Ă‚²b² €Â? €O½Â€Â‘Â? 8½ 8²Ăˆ8²Y -Â?Â€Ăˆb²¾Â€½Ă‹V ½}b 8Ă‚½}‘² ‘n oĂˆb Âľ}‘²½ ¾½Â‘²Ă‹ collections, and the editor of New Stories from the South 2010: The Year’s Best. +}b €¾ ½}b ²bO€Â?€bÂ?½ ‘n ½}b ‘F¾‘Â? Ă?É8²YV €Â? 8YY€½Â€Â‘Â? ½Â‘ 8 Ă‚uubÂ?}b€Š b‡‡‘Éship, and has taught at New York University, Saint Mary’s College, University of Missouri, Bennington College in Vermont, and The New School University in New York City. Congratulations to the winners of The Carolina Quarterly’s 2011 Riding a ²8Y€bÂ?½ Â?ĂˆÂ€ÂľÂ€F‡b ‘Â?½b¾½¢ ,}8Â?†¾ ½Â‘ 8‡‡ É}‘ bÂ?½b²bY¢ ,}8Â?†¾ 8Âľ Éb‡‡ ½Â‘ Ă?ŠË Hempel for reading and judging.



American Desire bbY b ½Â ¢ bbY YbOb ½ O É8²b É ½}  µ} b¢ bbY 8 ²b O} µË ½}bµ Îb² É ½} 8Ê Â µ  Y 8 ½b² u ½b ½ 8 ¢ bbY o ub² µ bbY¢ bbY F²b8 bO 8Obµ¢ bbY 8 ½ uµ n n ²bµ½µ FË ²b½ ²bY 8² ²8 ub²µ 8 Y ²½²8 ½µ n Ë u²b8½ Р½ 8¢ bbY ½} µ 8 Y ½}8½¢ bbY ½}b ½} uµ Ë 8 bÈb² u8Èb b¢ bbY 8 bµ É ½} ½ ² bµV O8 bµ É ½} ½ O8 Y bµV YË 8µ½ bµ ½ ²b8µµb F b 8 Y q ² µ}¢ need to know the truth about cannonballs. bbY Ë Â ½ 8½ b É}b ¯ ½8 u¢ bbY 8 Ë O}8 ub Y bµ¢ bbY 8 ½}b² u Y 8½ ½}8½ b8u b n n²bbY ¢ bbY F8 bY beans and beer; mpegs and bling bling¢ bbY ½}²bb n8 µb µ½8½b b ½µ ½ Fb ²bn½bY¢ bbY F È O8½ 8 ²µbµ ½ ½b Y Ë É Â Yµ 8 Y ½² Ë mouse-ear chickweed¢ bbY 8 bÉ }²8µb ½ YbµO² Fb Ë 8ÂY8O µ ² FO8ub¢ bbY ½ FÂË µ½ O 8 Y bbY ½ FÂË µO bµ 8 Y bbY ½ FÂË b ½ bµ¢ bbY ½Éb ½Ë ½É  8² bY b ¢ bbY } u} Ybo ½ ¢ bbY Ë µ u 8½Â²b  Y ½½bY bµ¢ bbY a pamphlet on angels with a foreword by Bono¢ bbY b ²b Èb µb½ Ob 8 Y¢ bbY O O bµV b ËFb8 µV ² µb b½8 µV ½ O u8²µV 8 Y O½8u 8 +ÉbY µ} Y b² 8½bµ¢ bbY }8 n ² ObY µ½ O uµ n ² ½}b 8Y bµ¢ bbY } b¢ bbY Ë Â ½  Yb²µ½8 Y b O b8² Ë¢ bbY ²b µÂ µ} b 8 Y ²b O µb µÂµ 8 Y ²b O Ob ½Â8 µb8µO8 bµ¢ bbY b b É ½} bË ½ µÂ²²  Y b¢ bbY ½ ²Â b ½}b ² µ½¢ bbY 8 u 8 uË from my father. bbY 8 ½} u ² ½É ¢ bbY ½ 8½½b Y 8 Armageddon conference. bbY 8 O µ½8²½ 8 Y 8 O µ½8 Y 8 Y 8 µÉ n½ O ½}b 8 ½µ¢ bbY ½ } ½}8½ n²b u}½ ½²8 ½ u ²Ë¢ bbY ½ u Èb 8É8Ë Ë Neil Diamond 8 F µ¢ bbY 8 Ë ½} uµ¢ bbY 8 ½½ b F ½ n } ub² 8 Y 8 ½½ b F ½ n µÉb8½¢ bbY o²b bʽ u µ}b²µ Fb b8½} 8 O ½Ë µ½8 ²Éb µ¢ bbY }b8Y8O}bµ 8 Y }b8²½8O}bµ 8 Y F Yµ}bY· ½}b 8½}b²V ½}b + V 8 Y ½}b Holy Ghost.

42 JAMES MCFATTER | First Place

bbY ½}b o²µ½ ½} u ½}8½ O bµ ½ Y¢ bbY Ë Â 8 Y b 8 Y 8 ½}b ½}b²µ¢ bbY 8 µbO Y O}8 Ob¢ bbY 8 F ɽ b ½ 8½O} Ë Èb²¯µ b²O} bnV 8 Y bbY ½ O b8 ½}b u½½b²µ bÈb²Ë n ²½ u}½¢ bbY 8 n² b Y¢ bbY 8 ½}b² } Y8Ë Fb½Ébb ,}8 µu È u 8 Y }² µ½ 8µ¢ bbY 8 Y µ} bµ½ ¢ bbY 8 ½½ b }b8Èb 8 Y } ¢ bbY 8 É8Ë Â½¢ bbY 8 O b n ² bÈb²Ë ½ b ¯Èb µbY ½}b É ²Y persnickety¢ bbY ½} µ Y² Âu}½ ½ b YV ½} µ 8uÂb ½ Ob8µbV ½} µ 8 8 µb ½ 8µµ Èb² ² O} Y²b ¢ bbY 8 È 38² ²bb 8O½ b ½ 8½ Y8É ¢ bbY b² µO bµ 8 Y ²8Y8² 8 Y Y 8 Yµ ½}b ² Âu}¢ bbY ½ Fb O  ½bY 8 u ½}b F b F² b V ½}b F²8Èb¢ bbY ½ F²b8½}b µ É ËV ½ ²b8Y Fb½Ébb ½}b bµ¢ bbY ½ ub ½ Ë Éb² Ë 8²µ ½ ½}b É8½b²µ¢

Amy Hempel: ¬Ð b² O8 bµ ²b­ O bY ½ ½}b ²8 Y (² Îb µ ½ o²µ½ ²b8Y uV ½µ position strengthened by every subsequent reading. “I need”—this is the way nearly every sentence begins, and I have rarely seen anaphora used to such good effect. It made me think of the Joe Brainard memoir, *b b Fb², and Rick Moody’s story “She Forgot.” This story is constantly surprising, yet always logical on its own terms. The narrator’s wideranging needs embrace the formal and colloquial, the deeply personal and the universal, all the while redeeming clichés and exploiting particularities. The story is impressionistic, associative, rhythmical, and lyrical. It is often funny: “I need a pamphlet on angels with a foreword by Bono. I need one more novel set in Iceland.” And startling: “I need to be counted among the bone-broken, the brave.” There is anger here, and whimsy, and clearbËbY Fµb²È8½ V  ½ ½}b o 8 ¬ bbY­ É ½} ½µ È u µ O ½Ë¢ ¬Ð b² O8 bµ ²b­ µ an immensely assured and memorable story that deepens each time you read it.



epitaph #26 this grave contains all that was mortal of a man who once hydroplaned on highway 76 through Hiawassee Georgia after exceeding the speed limit in the rain the car spinning in slowmo everything silver and streaks of ruby taillights the car crossing the median and swinging into a lane where the deceased braced himself for the impending impact of an oncoming semi he predicted would crush his body to roadside jelly but suddenly the car after having completed a three hundred and sixty degree turn came to a stop in the middle turning lane facing the direction he had been traveling and he had no words for what had just happened except that it felt like a miracle like angels had descended or the hand of G-D had reached down and sideswiped him out into the safety of the turn lane no doubt about it this would be something he would tell his grandO} Y²b 8F ½ F½ o²µ½ }b É Â Y ½Ë b  ½}b µ½ ²Ë 8 Y µb Y ½ ½ 8 Ë Â½} magazine distributed by his church and in the story he would talk about being the kind of person who had not believed in miracles had never trusted stories like the one about the old woman who was sick during a bu8F ÎÎ8²Y 8 Y ½}b²bn ²b  8F b ½ ½b Y ½ }b² o²b ² ²b½² bÈb É Y but then a tall stranger appeared at her door and without saying a word ²bµ½ O bY }b² É Y b 8 Y 8 Y 8 o²b 8 Y ½ ½ 8 Y Ob }b¯Y bn½ µ}b¯Y hobbled to the door and looked out and found no footprints in the snow a phrase that would not only serve as this story’s title but would provide ½}b µÂnoO b ½ bÈ Yb Ob ½}8½ ½}b 8 }8Y Fbb 8 8 ub µb ½ FË 8 conclusion which before the hydroplaning incident would have caused the deceased to roll his eyes but now caused him to rethink his position on angels only he sort of felt like a phony once he saw it printed in the magazine because even though he couldn’t explain how or why his body hadn’t been spread across the highway he also still had some unanswered angel related questions like what about the innocent victims of rapists and predators and warmongers and directors of genocide where had those people’s guardian angels been and was it true that if the deceased

44 MATTHEW VOLLMER | Runner-up

entered a movie theater would his guardian angel stand outside the door and weep until he emerged which was something that the prophetess and one of the founders of the particular church he had been raised in taught because while he wasn’t sure about guardian angels he was fairly certain that angels should they actually exist would not boycott theaters since what were movies but representations and who made them but artists and were artists bad and if so did angels stand outside the homes of artists weeping no the deceased thought he didn’t think so or at least he hoped with all his heart that this was not so

Amy Hempel: The headlong quality of “epitaph #26” propelled it into a runner-up position. This long single sentence spotlights a man’s faith as he questions his beliefs in the wake of a dramatic near-miss on a highway in the rain. The style—run-on, unpunctuated— µ 8 8½O} n ² ½}b O ½b ½· ½ ²bqbO½µ ½}b 8½Â²b n µÂO} 8 8 µ½ 8OO Yb ½ ½}8½ µbb µ ½ occur in slow motion AND in regular time. This story has the true feel of all that might run through someone’s mind as it believes it is facing the last moments of life, with, somehow, time enough even then to puzzle out mysteries and entertain hopes.



Lift ,}b Ob u ½}b Y u ² µ ¯½ É ² u¢ ½¯µ Fbb O8È u 8 Y8ËV É Yb Fb8 µ F É u ½ ½}b q ² b u²8O µ F½ b²µ¢ We watched giddily over breakfast as the beam directly over the banquet table began to curve downward in the middle. ¬(b²}8 µ Éb µ}  Y O8 8 O ½²8O½ ²V­ ½}b² µ8 YV µ µ}b Y Y¢ b came and nailed the rafter back in place, told us that the heat can do that µ ²½ n ½} u ½ É YU bÊ 8 Y ½}b µ 8Ob Fb½Ébb ½µ 8½ µ¢ But the ceiling swooned out of place again that afternoon, dipping to a height just above our heads. ¬(b²}8 µ Éb µ}  Y O8 8 8²O} ½bO½V­ 8½}b² µÂuubµ½bYV µ }b Y Y¢ He came and bent the beam back into shape and told us that humidity can do that sort of thing to wood, warp its contours. But it swooped downward that evening, onto the table this time, knocking a bowl of gravy right into the mashed potatoes. ¬(b²}8 µ Éb µ}  Y O8 8 ½}b²8 µ½V­ Yb² ² ½}b² bYV 8 Yi µ½ O8µbi}b Y Y¢ +}b µ8½ bʽ ½ ½}b ½8F b O8 u ½}b Fb8 F8O ½ the ceiling, and it stretched slowly upward. Stress can do that sort of thing to wood, she said, make it lose its will. But by nightfall the rafter had dropped all the way to the carpet, O²8µ} u ½}² Âu} ½}b ½8F b 8 Y ½ ½}b q ²¢ ¬,}b²b µ b b µb ½ O8 V­ ½}b u² É Â µ O ObYbYV µ ½}bË Â½ ½}b ² Y²bµµ u u É µ 8 Y went to sleep. Ð Y ½}b O} Y²b O FbY ½ n FbY 8 Y Éb µ8½ ½}b µÂYYb wooden swing, and without any hammering or sanding or coaxing, it rose from the ground and lifted us up to the sky.

Amy Hempel: “Lift,” the other runner-up, is a modern fable. A ceiling beam above a family’s dining room table dips lower despite a succession of attentions by experts with their various interpretations. It is not until the children act that we see how their simple, appreciative take on the situation brings the beam—and the story—to a higher purpose.

46 COURTNEY SENDER | Runner-up


Conditions Ð ½}² Âu} ½}b Y8Ë 8 È µ ½bY FË u} µ½µ ½}8½ Y ½ bb½¢ É É Â Y b ½ ½² YÂOb ½}b ½bY Èb² ½}b µ Èb²É8²b Y²8Éb² ½ ½}b groom standing stiff in his ragged tuxedo behind the bathroom mirror; how the orphans cradled in the sofa cushions would be delighted by the tales of the conquistador who reigns over the toolbox in the garage! But they are bound to their miniature dominions, or to particular times of day – so in the potted crocus in the den, the nocturne of the nameless harpist always fades before sunrise brings the slavedriver with his cat ¯ b ½8 µ¢ Ë ½}b 8²O} ½bO½ ½}b O b½ n Ë o bµ½ É} ½b O 8²bY µ} ²½ }8µ ½}b ²Â n ½}b } µbV 8 Y Y8˵ É}b }8Èb Y²bµµbY n ² ½}b theater or a cocktail party he follows me from room to room, declaring that here he would build a library, here another tiny prison.

Amy Hempel: “Conditions” receives an honorable mention for its prose-poem sound, its extravagant premise that plays out modestly, and the evocative effect it produces by the end.


| Honorable Mention 47



8½8µ½² } 8U 8 Â · a sense of non-sense; as in a desire to sense no thing as 1. bird clinging to a concrete É8 · q8µ} u}½ Fb8 µ· F Y bµ at night; unreachable zippers and spider webs. 2. walls collapsed; camera’s eye; a sofa bed; a suitcase packed; four pairs of panties, one bra. 3. lawn bags and a plastic tarp; a laminated photograph; the family tree; a need to cut the grass. 4. house moves; empty cart; estate sale; replacement cost; a price tag on a body suit; being placed on hold. 5. broken limbs; feeding tubes; scar tissue; volcano’s throat; a dumpster. 6. last wishes; leftover chicken sealed in saran wrap; nightmares; being held in place; a Mother’s will. 7. bones in a plaster cast; dead skin; ashes to be; stump grinder. g¢ 8 Fb8²b²µ· 8 b² 8½bµ· neighbors passing; franks and beans, franks and beans; chainsaws. 9. condolences; passage

48 CAROLINE YOUNG | Honorable Mention

O 8 µbY· b O no µ· O µ u costs; God processing; last call; checkmate. 10. reconstruction sites; cul de sac; no place to sit; red ants, mold, bankers.

Amy Hempel: “Catastrophilia” receives an honorable mention for its playful and imagina½ Èb Ybo ½ µ ½}8½ F ½} 8YY  ½ 8 Y Èbb² n² ½}b  n ½}b ½ ½ b¢


photograph by Helen Woolard for The Daily Tar Heel




“The Poem Lust I Still Have” A CONVERSATION WITH AMY HEMPEL Amy Hempel has been a well-known name in literary circles since the publication of “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried” in 1983. PurportbY Ë ½}b o²µ½ µ½ ²Ë µ}b }8Y bÈb² ɲ ½½b V ¬ ½}b b b½b²Ë­ µ É b n the most anthologized stories of the past 25 years. In 2006, The Collected +½ ² bµ n Ð Ë b b V which included all of her work up to that point, was named one of the 10 best books of the year by The New York Times Book Review. Hempel is one of only a handful of writers to make a career b ½ ²b Ë Â½ n µ} ²½ oO½ V }8È u bÈb² ÂF µ}bY 8 n b u½} Èb ¢ Nearing the end of her hectic week at The University of North CarolinaChapel Hill as the Morgan Writer In Residence this past March, Hempel and I sat down to chat about dogs, poetry, and precision. Despite her packed schedule and the last minute nature of our interview, she was gracious and vibrant as we settled into two chairs near an open window in UNC’s Greenlaw Hall. I had heard that she does not enjoy interviews, so I was surprised at the ease with which she expressed herself. – Heather Van Wallendael ¢ +, , Ð -Ð The Carolina Quarterly: Can you explain the process of workshopping and bY ½ u ½}b o²µ½ µ½ ²Ë Ë Â bÈb² ɲ ½b K¬ ½}b b b½b²Ë 3}b²b Ð µ µ ² bY­L¨ Amy Hempel: 3b Éb²b u Èb ½}b É n8 µ 8µµ u b ½U ¬Ë ² É ²µ½ µbO²b½V­ 8 Y bÈb²Ë b }8Y Èb²Ë ½b²bµ½ u É ²µ½ µbO²b½µ ½}b O 8µµ¢ + V we proceeded, and we didn’t look at stories on paper. Each week we read aloud, and we read the new parts as we went along through the term. So, you know, all of us heard each other progress week by week. We got AMY HEMPEL


bµµb ½ 8 nbbYF8O n² ½}b µ½²ÂO½ ² 8 Y b8O} ½}b²¢ Ð Y É}b u ½ ½ ½}b b Y 8 Y µ8É ½}8½ Ë µ½ ²Ë Éb ½ Èb² Éb O 8µµV ½} ½}b ½b8O}b² µ½ µ8 Y ½¯µ ²b8YË ½ u ½¢ + µ½8²½bY¢ Y Y ¯½ }8Èb 8 8ub ½V n O ²µbV 8µ 8 o²µ½ µ½ ²ËV µ µ½ µ½8²½bY µb Y u ½ ½ 8u8Î bµ 8 Y placed it in TriQuarterlyV É} O} ¯Y Fbb ²b8Y u n ² 8 Ë Ëb8²µ FË ½}8½ time. CQ: Did you always want to be a writer? AH: 5bµ¢ Y Y ¯½ u 8n½b² ½ 8 µb² µ É8Ë n ² 8 u ½ bV F½ Ëb8}¢ Yeah. Doing the usual things. Reading, reading, reading constantly. But Y Y ¯½ }8Èb 8 O Âb¢ b8 V µ½8²½bY ² 8 µ V 8 Y µ½8²½bY Y u some newspaper things and medical recording. But not a lot of it before µ½ÂYË u oO½ ¢ CQ: You’ve said that you are currently and have always been really interested in the short short. What is on the literary horizon for you? Lots n q8µ} oO½ ¨ AH: 5bµ¢ ¯ ½8 u } b É ½} b 8 O Ë n Long Story Short: Flash O½ FË + Ê½Ë oÈb n ²½} 8² 8¯µ bµ½ 3² ½b²µ which was assembled by Marianne Gingher, for example. Since my collected stories O8 b ½V µ½ n ½}b µ½ ² bµ ¯Èb ɲ ½½b }8Èb Fbb µ} ²½ µ} ²½µV 8 Y Èb ½}b ¢ ¯ Ob²½8 Ë ½ u u ½}b Y ²bO½ n ½}b Èb ¢ Y ¯½ expect to ever write a novel. Short shorts are very appealing in a number n É8˵V 8 Y }8Èb Yb8µ n ² 8 Ë ²b¢ Ð µ V ½}b²b¯µ ½}b 8½½²8O½ ½}8½ some of them really do approach or maybe even are prose poems. So that µ8½ µobµ ½}b b µ½ µ½ }8Èb¢ CQ: е 8 oO½ ɲ ½b²V Ë Â Y µOµµ b½²Ë É ½} 8 u²b8½ Yb8 n ²bµ bO½¢ b ½}b É ²Y Ë Â ÂµbY 8½ ½}b ²b8Y uU ¬ ²bO µ µ½¢­ AH: That’s Raymond Carver’s term.






| Trail Less Traveled

KU DU - L AH | Daisies and Critters





| Gnaw Crashed


Postcard from the Great Wall bµ½ ËV O  Y ¯½ ½b Ë Â } É n8² 8É8Ë Éb 8²b from each other, but the view from here µ ²b8 Ë µ b½} u b µb¢ É ½¯µ Fbb 8 É} bi ½}b ½² ½ n ²bÈb²V 8 Y ½¯µ Fbb Y noO ½ ½ o Y 8 b i F½ Fb½½b² 8½b ½}8 bÈb²V 8µ ½}bË µ8Ë¢ } b Ë Â¯²b Éb ¢ ¯Èb 8O½bY F8Y Ëi O8 µbb ½}8½ É¢ The space between us has granted a helpful b²µ bO½ Èb¢ } b Ë Â O8 n ²u Èb the clichés of apology, but we’re worlds apart, 8 Y ¯ ½ µÂ²b ¯  n ² O µ u ½}b Y µ½8 Ob¢ É ¯½ Fb O u F8O i ½ ½ bÈb²Ë½} u }8Y µ½ ½ ub½ }b²bV µ ½} ¯ µb½½ b ¢ ²b8 ½ËV there’s no other option, and you’re long gone by now, bÊ bO½¢ Ë u8 8Ê˯µ 8² bY É ½} 8 4¢

The Sloan Great Wall, a giant wall of galaxies, is the largest known structure in the Universe. Its discovery was announced on October 20, 2003. The wall measures 1.37 billion light years in length and is located approximately one billion light-years from Earth.



DARI C G I L L | Comparison



Sweet Relief ²bŠbŠFb² 8‡‡ ½}8½ Ă‹b8² Fb€Â?u Ă‚Âľb‡b¾¾ 8Â?Y ¾½²8Â?ub¢ (bY8‡€Â?u ½Â‘ ½}b F²Â€Yub 8n½b² ÂľO}‘‘‡ ÂŻY Â?8¾¾ ½b‡bÂ?}‘Â?b Â?‘‡bÂľV ½}€Â?†€Â?uV if I make that one before three, today it will happen. Ă?Â?Y €n Š8Yb €½ Fbn‘²b ½}²bbV ÂŻY Y‘ ½}b Âľ8Šb ɀ½} ½}b Â?bĂŠ½V †bbÂ? Y‘€Â?u €½ Ă‚Â?½Â€Â‡ Âľ8É ½}b O‘Â?O²b½b ²8€‡€Â?uV bÂ?Â?b½}ÂŻÂľ F۠b }8Â?Y‡bÂľ ¾½Â€O†€Â?u ‘½ n²Â‘Š ½}b ²Â‘8Y¾€Yb FĂ‚Âľ}b¾¢ ½ É8Âľ ‘Â?‡Ë 8 ‡€½½Â‡b O²bb† u‘€Â?u Ă‚Â?Yb² ½}b ²Â‘8Y ½}b²b¢ Y‘Â?¯½ bĂˆbÂ? ½}€Â?† €½ }8Y 8 Â?8Šb¢ Ă?‡‡ ½}b ‡b8ĂˆbÂľ ‘Â? ½}b ½²bbÂľV ½}b ĂˆÂ€Â?bÂľV 8Â?Y ½}b nbÂ?Ob Â?‘¾½¾ Éb²b Â?‘ÉYb²bY with dust, and there was a patch of poison ivy dusted as well. Ă‹ ½}8½ ½Â€ÂŠbV ÂŻY FbbÂ? ½²Ă‹Â€Â?u n‘² 8F‘½ ¾€Ê Š‘Â?½}¾¢ ÂŻY ½²Â€bY ɀ½} O8½8‡‘uÂľV 8Â?Y ÂŻY ½²Â€bY ɀ½} Â?€O½Ă‚²bÂľ ÂŻY ²Â€Â? ‘½ ‘n ŠË ¾€¾½b²¯¾ Cosmos, 8Â?Y ÂŻY ½²Â€bY ‡8½b 8½ Â?€u}½ É8½O}€Â?u ²b²Ă‚Â?Âľ ‘n Married With Children. used Jergen’s hand lotion, and baby oil, and KY Jelly from Mom and

8YÂŻÂľ ²Â‘‘ŠV 8Â?Y Ă‚ÂľbY ½}b ÂľObÂ?½bY ‡‘½Â€Â‘Â? bb Ă?Â?Â? †bÂ?½ ‘Â? }b² Y²b¾¾b²¢ Â?b ½Â€ÂŠb Â?Ă‚½ }8€² O‘Â?Y€½Â€Â‘Â?b² €Â? 8 Âľ8Â?YɀO} F8uV ¾‡€Â?Â?bY €½ €Â? Fb½Ă‰bbÂ? the couch cushions, and went at it like a dog. Nothing came of it but a big mess. ½ É8Âľ ²Â€u}½ 8n½b² ½}8½ ¾½8²½bY ɀ½} ½}b Š8u8΀Â?b¾¢ 3b F‘Âu}½ ½}bŠ every Wednesday from Jimmy Goss’s brother, kept them stacked under a ²Â‘O† Fb‡‘É ½}b F²Â€Yub¢ Ă?Âľ ¾‘‘Â? 8Âľ ½}b FĂ‚Âľ Y²Â‘Â?Â?bY Šb ‘nnV ÂŻY ub½ ‘Â? ŠË bike, cross the highway, and pedal along the dirt road to meet Kenneth, 8‡‡ ½}b É8Ă‹ Y‘ÉÂ? ½}€Â?†€Â?u 8F‘½ É}b½}b² ‘² Â?‘½ €½ ɑ‡Y oÂ?8‡‡Ë }8Â?Â?bÂ?¢ ÂŻY }€Yb ŠË F۠bV u‘ Ă‚Â?Yb²Â?b8½} ½}b ²Â‘8YV 8Â?Y oÂ?Y }€Š Y‘ÉÂ? FĂ‹ ½}b É8ter, a magazine cracked open and held to his face. That day, he had his jean jacket spread out, and he was lying there sipping a can of pop. When he saw me, he rose up on an elbow, and held out the centerfold. ÂŹ bĂ‹V­ }b Âľ8€YV ‡‘‘† 8½ ½}€¾ ‘Â?b¢­ ‡‘‘†bY¢ ½ É8Âľ 8 Â?€O½Ă‚²b ‘n 8 F‡‘Â?Yb †Â?bb‡€Â?u €Â? 8 u8²8ub ɀ½} 8 monkey wrench up to her crotch. She was very pretty and smeared with grease.




From the Old Northwest ² ½}b bÈb bµµ n ½}b O  ½Ëi through Montgomery, Dark, and Greene, from a bright cloud having precisely the color of a glowing oven, 8 ½½ b ²8 nb i not enough ½ Éb½ 8 8 ¯µ µ} ²½i and the storm µbb bY 8½ o²µ½ the size of a man’s hand, throwing a small cloud, then folds from clouds to earth, and the brightness made the face of things light above the brightness of a full moon. е 8½ 8 µ u 8 V the cloud started from its position. ½µ O ²µb É8µ ²½}b² Ë ½}b b8µ½b² Ëi some resemblance to an elephant’s trunk, like that of a cone or a sugar loaf, rather like a speaking trumpet, a fountain boiling over.



The rain continued falling, not in drops F½ b 8 µ Y F YË n É8½b²i a column of water a column of sand quite dark, so that objects could not be seen through it. Here a piece of broken furniture and there, a scattered door. ,}b 8 ² É8µ o bY with trees and cattle, beds, and bedding, and fragments of houses, }8 µ½ bµ 8µ 8²ub 8µ 8 8 ¯µ ½É oµ½µi the air was black as pitch and boiling like that substance over a furnace.

I created “From the Old Northwest” entirely with fragments from 19th-century newspaper accounts of severe storms that were collected in a book called, 8² Ë Ð b² O8 , ² 8does. Using descriptions from various storms in the region we now know as the Midwest, I strove to create an image of a single storm from inception to destructive conclusion (Most accounts did not describe storms in their entirety.). I was taken with the vividness and formality of the language, and it was important to me that the material of this poem be comprised entirely of language (voices) from this other era. There is a natural music to this found text, and composing it in verse really allowed me to explore the emotive qualities of the diction, both the awe and the terror.



JU STI N RA MSE Y | Channeling



Devotions by Bruce Smith -Â?Â€Ăˆb²¾Â€½Ă‹ ‘n }€O8u‘ (²b¾¾ ˜Ă?s Â?8ub¾¡ _˜g¢Ă?Ă? }8²YOÂ‘Ăˆb²

Â? ²b8Y€Â?u ²Ă‚Ob +Š€½}ÂŻÂľ Devotions, it is important to consider not only what a devotion is, but who or what merits devotion. These poems can be things of great beauty because they do not concern themselves with the obviously beautiful or ½}b Ăˆb²Ă‹ ¾Ébb½¢ ,}bĂ‹ O‘Â?½8€Â? ŠÂO} ĂˆÂ€Â‘Â‡bÂ?Ob 8Â?Y o²bV 8Â?Y ½}bĂ‹ O‘Â?Ob²Â? ½}bŠ¾bÂ‡ĂˆbÂľ with broken cities (Syracuse, Utica), the broken parts of glorious cities (New York, (8²Â€¾ V O²Â‘ɾV 8Â? bĂŠ Â?²Â€ÂľÂ‘Â?b²V 8 O}€‡Y É}‘ b8½¾ 8 O²8O†b² ‘nn ‘n ½}b FĂ‚Âľ q‘‘²V 8Â?Y 8 poetic persona that contains within him both murder and relentless empathy, who often rides the bus and glides between dream, life, and imagination. Â? ½}bÂľb Â?‘bŠ¾V ½}b ĂˆÂ‘Â€Ob €¾ Š‘¾½ ‘n½bÂ? ½}8½ ‘n 8 ¾ËŠÂ?8½}b½Â€O Âľbb²¢ ,}b ‡€Â?bÂľ n²Â‘Š ÂŹ bĂˆÂ‘½Â€Â‘Â?U €Y²8Âľ}­ ÂľbbŠ 8 Âľb‡n Â?‘²½²8€½U ÂŹ3}b½}b² ˑ¯²b b8½¾ Âş ɀ½} your nose pressed against the window of the sweet / shop‌or whether you’re the ɑŠ8Â? ‘Â? ½}b FĂ‚¾¢­ Ă‚² Â?‘b½ €¾ F‘½} b8½¾ 8Â?Y ½}b ɑŠ8Â? ‘Â? ½}b FĂ‚ÂľV Š8Â?Ă‹ times Keats watching the woman on the bus and sometimes the woman on the bus watching Keats. Â? ÂŹ bĂˆÂ‘½Â€Â‘Â?U }8Â?ub‡€Â?uV­ ½}b Â?b²¾Â‘Â?8 bÂ?O‘ÂÂ?½b²¾ 8 Š8Â? }b ²bO‘uÂ?€ÎbÂľ 8Âľ 8Â? bĂŠ O‘Â? 8Â?Y É}‘Š }b Âľb½¾ Ă‚Â? 8Âľ }€¾ ‘ÉÂ? O}8Â?ub‡€Â?uU ‘Â?b ¾É€½O}bY 8½ F€²½} 8Â?Y given the fate of another. The observations about the man are uncharacteristically ²Ă‚½}‡b¾¾U ÂŹO‘Šb €Â?½Â‘ ½}b n8Ob }b YbÂľb²ĂˆbY 8½ ¾€Ê½Ă‹V 8 nb‡‘Â?€‘¾ n8ObhÉb8²Â€Â?u O‡‘½}bÂľ ‘Â?Ob ɑ²bV FĂ‚½ Âľ}8FF€b²V Y€Â?u€b²¢­ 5b½ 8‡Š‘¾½ Fbn‘²b ½}bÂľb ɑ²YÂľ 8²b ‘½V ½}bĂ‹ 8²b §Ă‚8‡€obY ɀ½} O‘ŠÂ?‡bʀ½Â€bÂľ ½}8½ Â?‘€Â?½ ½}b oÂ?ub² F8O† ½Â‘É8²YÂľ ½}b ÂľÂ?b8†b²V É}‘ hates in others what he sees in himself. What he despises is not the crimes themselves, but the way the other man allows the knowledge of his crimes (whether real or imaginary, chosen or as unavoidable as original sin) to mute and subdue him. The hatred of submission, and of guilt, is a major preoccupation in this book, as it was in Smith’s previous Songs for Two Voices and The Other Lover. That this quality (the struggle against human nature and against guilt itself)



intersects with the religious discourse is not lost on Smith, who has taken the title and central trope of the book from religion. There are numerous other moments in the book where religious tones are brought into the mosaic, such as the ending n ¬ bÈ ½ U  ½8²V­ ¬ É8µ ²bOb È uU 8 8u b½ É Â Y 8²  Y 8 µ½bb O h½}b §Â8Èb²µ O Èb²½bY ½ 8 b bO½² O F h O8 Fb ²½ obY 8 ËÉ}b²bV bÈb²ËÉ}b²b¢­ b²bV ½}b }b8ÈËV ËµË 8F OV 8Fµ½²8O½V 8½ 8½b ¬ ²½ obYV­ É} O} O  Y b8µ Ë be too vague and non-visual to work, particularly at the end of the poem, in fact creates a thrilling and rich ending, because its tones of religious torture, though ½ bÊ O ½ Ë 8 nbµ½V µ½ ² u O b8²V 8 Y ½}b ² O q8½ É ½} ½}b 8O½ n µ O making is rich as a metaphor for the idea of writing as an act of devotion. ½ µ}  Y Fb ½bY ½}8½ ½}bµb b µ 8²b ½ b8µËV F½ ½}b˯²b ½ }8²Y ½}b way of poems deliberately semipermeable to the intellect or resistant to feeling. ,}bË 8²b Y noO ½ FbO8µb ½}b ²8 ub n ²bnb²b Obµ µ Èb²Ë F² 8YV ½}b ½} Âu}½ µ subtle and exact, and the poet has worked hard to make every line alive with movement, making surprising but accurate associations, and playing with sound and the visual components of the poem. The line, more than any other unit, is ½}b ²bO u ÎbY O²²b OË n ½}bµb b µ¢ ¬ bÈ ½ U (² È Yb ObV­ ¬ O² bY º ½}b O ½}bµ nn n µ½² b²µV­ 8 Y ¬ Y²b8 V O  Y ½  Y ½}b µb8F ²Yµ n² ½}b ² µ}8Y ɵ¢­ ¬ bÈ ½ U *bY * n V­ ¬Ð½ ½}b *bY * n ½}bË O  Y ¯½ ²bO b Y 8 8 ½b² 8½ Èb º ½ µÂnnb² u¢­ ¬ bÈ ½ U µb } b (V­ ¬½}b ½²bbµ º ½}8½ b8½ ½}b b b 8Y8 b È8²Ë¢­ 8 Ë n ½}bµbV ½}b 8²²bµ½ u §Â8 ½Ë of the image is not divorceable from the torque of the intelligence, or the play of language and sound. ¬ bÈ ½ U + bb V­ + ½} ɲ ½bµV ¬ È u ½}b É ² Y ½µ Y noO ½Ë ½ Fb º ÈbY  O Y ½ 8 ËV u È u ½}b É ² Y ½µ F8Y 8 b¢­ ½}bµb b µ }b ²bµ µ½µ this impulse, attempting to love the world unconditionally if it can be done, and even to praise the world as it is (ugly, violent, cruel, insane), to make for it 8 8 b µ u ½}8½ µ F ½} Fb8½ n 8 Y ½²Âb¢ е É ½} YbÈ ½ µV b Y bµ ½ attempt such projects in order to complete them. Bruce Smith can’t redeem the É ² YV bÈb É ½} ½} µ }b8²½F²b8 u F ¢ ½¯µ ½}b 8O½ n ɲ ½ u ½}8½ O  ½µV ½}8½ must be done. The book is not only comprised of devotions, but is one. Writing is, or ought to be, the pouring of one urn of water into a garden that is always ½}²b8½b u ½ Y²Ë  ¢ 8O} ɲ ½b² o µ ½}b O8²8nb 8 Y É8 µ ½ ½}b u8½bV ½ u the water, which seems so little. The garden still looks like it will die, but how do you think it made it this long? J A S M I N E V. BA I L E Y



JENNIFER D. ANDERSON is a visual artist who has recently relocated from the West Coast to Southwest Virginia where she teaches studio art at Hollins University. Her art has been exhibited in venues across ½}b -Â?€½bY +½8½bÂľ 8Âľ Éb‡‡ 8Âľ €Â? *Ă‚¾¾Â€8V Ă?Ă‚¾½²8‡€8V 8Â?Y +‘½} ‘²b8¢ ,8†ing into account the vulnerable delicate nature of the life while gently asserting the persistence of memory, her work has long focused on the ephemeral through the selection of images, materials, and process. JASMINE V. BAILEY is the O’Connor fellow in creative writing at Colu8½b -Â?Â€Ăˆb²¾Â€½Ă‹ 8Â?Y }‘‡YÂľ 8Â? Ă? n²Â‘Š ½}b -Â?Â€Ăˆb²¾Â€½Ă‹ ‘n 2€²u€Â?€8¢ b² poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in the minnesota review, 32 Poems, Rhino, The Portland Review, and other journals. Her chapbook, Sleep and What Precedes ItV €¾ 8Ăˆ8€‡8F‡b n²Â‘Š ‘Â?u‡b8n (²b¾¾¢ JAMES GORDON BENNETT’s opening chapter of his novel-in-progress, A Garden Above the World, about the arctic explorer Matthew Henson, appears in the current Literary Imagination¢ €¾ Âľ}‘²½ oO½Â€Â‘Â? }8Âľ twice been reprinted in New Stories from the South and cited a number of times in Best American Short Stories. CHRIS DUNSMORE lives in Salt Lake City and studies poetry and book 8²½¾ €Â? ½}b Ă? Â?²Â‘u²8Š 8½ ½}b -Â?Â€Ăˆb²¾Â€½Ă‹ ‘n -½8}¢ €¾ Â?‘b½²Ă‹ }8Âľ 8Â?peared in the undergraduate literary journal Polaris. JOE GALLAGHER É8Âľ F‘²Â? 8Â?Y ²8€¾bY €Â? ²Â‡8Â?Y‘V ‡‘²Â€Y8¢ b €¾ ½}b (²Â‘YĂ‚O€Â?u Ă?²½Â€¾½Â€O €²bO½Â‘² 8½ €u *‘YbÂ?½V 8 ½}b8½b² O‘ŠÂ?8Â?Ă‹ }b n‘ÂÂ?YbYV OĂ‚²²bÂ?½Â‡Ă‹ Â?Ă‚½½Â€Â?u ‘Â? €½¾ ½}€²Y Âľb8¾‘Â? €Â? bÉ 5‘²Â† €½Ă‹¢ €¾ o²¾½ book of poetry, Night at Suck Mansion, was published in 2010. Joe lives with his girlfriend in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.



DARIC GILL µ 8  Fµ F8µbY 8²½ µ½ 8 Y bYÂO8½ ²¢ b }8µ } µ Ð from the University of Cincinnati. His studio practices range from bronze sculptures to robotics, eloquent oil paintings to fun and fancy-free illus½²8½ µV 8 Y o b 8²½µ n² ½Â²b ½ u²8no½ µ ²bY É8 µO ½Â²bµ¢ 8YY ½ V }8µ 8 µ ½8Âu}½ 8½ ½}b  Fµ bub n в½ 8 Y bµ u V ½}b - Èb²µ ½Ë n O 8½ V 8 Y ½}b  Fµ  ½Â²8 в½µ b ½b²¢ AARON GWYN is the author of the novel The World Beneath and a collection of stories, Dog on the CrossV É} O} É8µ 8 o 8 µ½ n ² ½}b ÁÏÏp bÉ 5 ² (ÂF O F²8²Ë 5  u µ O½ ÐÉ8²Y¢ µ µ} ²½ oO½ }8µ appeared in New Stories from the South, Esquire, McSweeney’s, Glimmer Train, The Gettysburg Review, and other magazines. He is associate professor of English at the University of North Carolina-Charlotte where }b ½b8O}bµ oO½ ɲ ½ u 8 Y O ½b ²8²Ë Ð b² O8 oO½ ¢ AMORAK HUEY, a former reporter and editor, teaches at Grand Valley State University in Michigan. His poems have appeared in The Southern Review, Indiana Review, Subtropics, Rattle and other journals. NAHAL SUZANNE JAMIR ²bOb ÈbY }b² (} ²b8½ Èb 3² ½ u n² ² Y8 +½8½b - Èb²µ ½Ë¢ b² É ² }8µ Fbb ÂF µ}bY The South Carolina Review, Jabberwock Review, Meridian, The Los Angeles Review, and Crab Orchard Review. AARON KROL was raised in Baltimore, educated in New York, currently resides in Boston, and following this trajectory will most likely die in Toronto. By day he sells puzzles and board games, and by night }b ²µÂbµ } µ Ð b½²Ë 8½ b²µ bub¢ KUDU-LAH is a locally owned and operated husband-wife duo based in NYC. Harnessing the power of awesome, Kenny and Jenifer Kudulis bring you monster-like characters that are inspired by folks often seen traveling through the subways of NYC. Each individual piece of artwork is lovingly handmade with a unique photo transfer process. CO N TR I B U TO R S


ANGIE MACRI’s work is forthcoming in Redivider, RHINO, and Third Coast, among other journals, and is included in Best New Poets 2010. Her manuscript Queensware É8µ 8 bY 8 o 8 µ½ ½}b ²8F ²O}8²Y +b² bµ ( b½²Ë ²µ½ ÐÉ8²Y O b½ ½ V 8 Y µ}b }8µ Fbb 8É8²YbY 8 Y È YÂ8 8²½ µ½ nb ɵ} n² ½}b в 8 µ8µ в½µ  O ¢ JAMES MCFATTER Èbµ ,8 8}8µµbbV ² Y8V É}b²b }b É ² µ 8µ 8 editor, writer, and governmental training director. His poems have appeared in Sycamore Review and Mid-American Review. Currently he is an associate editor for Itinerario: International Journal on the History of European Expansion and Global Expansion, published by CamF² Yub - Èb²µ ½Ë (²bµµ¢ MAMIE MORGAN ²bOb ÈbY }b² Ð n² - 3 u½ ÁÏϹ¢ Since then, she’s taught poetry at The South Carolina Governor’s School n ² ½}b в½µ 8 Y  8 ½ bµ¢ +}b ²bOb ÈbY ½}b ( O8½8 u ( b½²Ë (² ÎbV judged by Matt Doty, last year and is currently a Surdna fellow. Her work has appeared in The Oxford American, Inkwell, The Greensboro Review, and Edible Upcountry. Most days she can be found teaching, waitressing at The Lazy Goat, running trails, or loving on her family. JOHN POCH is the author of three collections of poems, most recently Dolls ²O} µbµ (²bµµ ÁÏÏ ¢ b ½b8O}bµ ½}b O²b8½ Èb ɲ ½ u ² u²8 at Texas Tech University. JUSTIN RAMSEY (AKA ZIG-ZAG SOUL) is a self-taught artist residing in 3bµ½ е}bÈ bV ²½} 8² 8¢ b µbµ µË F µ ½ bÊ8 b ½}b µËchological complexities of life, with a particular interest in the search for meaning in an increasingly unhinged and uncertain world. He uses a wide variety of mediums on various two and three dimensional surn8Obµ¢ µ É ² O8 Fb µbb 8½ 3 É ²½} 38 Y É ½ É Ðµ}bÈ bV ² } µ ÉbFµ ½bU ÉÉÉ¢7 u78u+  ¢O ¢



STEPHANIE E . SCHLAIFER µ ²u 8 Ë n² н 8 ½8V b ²u 8 8 Y }8µ 8 Ð b½²Ë n² ½}b É8 3² ½b²µ¯ 3 ² µ} ¢ b² b µ }8Èb recently appeared in or a forthcoming from Verse, Chicago Review, and Colorado Review, among others. Her manuscript, Clarkston St. PolaroidsV É8µ o 8 µ½ n ² ½}b , b (²bµµ ²µ½º+bO Y ÐÉ8²Y ÁÏ 8 Y ½}b b8½² Ob 8É bË (² Îb n² Ð Ob 8 bµ µ ÁÏ Ï ¢ +½b }8nie is currently working on a series of poems about historical weather events and a collection of children’s books in verse. COURTNEY SENDER µ 8 Ð µ½ÂYb ½ O½ 8½ ½}b } µ µ University Writing Seminars, where she also teaches. Her work in other ub ²bµ }8µ Fbb nb8½Â²bY ½}b 58 b ( 8Ëɲ u}½µ bµ½ È8 V ½}b 8 ½ ²b ( 8Ëɲ u}½µ bµ½ È8 V 8 Y Connecticut River Review¢ +}b } Yµ 8 ¢Ð¢ English from Yale University. MATTHEW VOLLMER is the author of a story collection, Future Missionaries of America, and is co-editor, with David Shields, of Fraudulent Artifacts, an anthology forthcoming from Norton. His work has appeared in magazines such as Paris Review, VQR, Tin House, Epoch, Colorado Review, and Oxford American. He teaches creative writing at Virginia Tech. CLAIRE WAHMANHOLM } Yµ 8 Ð n² ½}b ɲ ½ u µb 8²µ 8½ Johns Hopkins University. Her work has appeared in the California Quarterly and the Cider Press Review. She lives in Baltimore.

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}8 b ²b8½ Èb 3² ½ u (² u²8 V 8 Y ½}b - }8 b u µ} Department. 8²½ O 8² Éb É µ} ½ ½}8 ²bY Fµ 8 Y (8 ²F8 n ² ½}b ² ub b² µ µÂ ²½ n ² 8u8Î bV 8µ Éb 8µ ½}b *b}Yb²º b½½µ  Y ½}b - ²b8½ Èb 3² ½ u (² u²8 ¢ This publication is funded in part by student fees, which were appropriated and dispersed by the Student Government at UNC-Chapel Hill.



2012 SOUTH LOOP REVIEW CREATIVE NONFICTION ESSAY CONTEST Judged by Ander Monson Our contest is open to all nonfiction writers. We’re looking for essays and memoir in lyric and experimental forms. We give greater emphasis to non-linear narratives and blended genre. Winner receives $1,000 and publication in our September 2012 (Volume 14) issue. The $20 submission fee includes a two-year subscription to South Loop Review: Creative Nonfiction + Art. Visit our website for guidelines at

South Loop Review: Creative Nonfiction + Art accepts submissions year-round. We do not accept work that is more than 8-12 text pages or has been previously published. Experimental forms of creative nonfiction, i.e. segmented essays, montage memoir, illustrated/graphic memoir, blended genre, are welcome. Photographers/artists are encouraged to submit narrative/documentary art/photography—pieces that tell a story. For full guidelines and to submit via email, visit Tell It Slant at home/journal_details/9. Hard copies with cover letter and SASE may be sent to: South Loop Review: Creative Nonfiction + Art, Columbia College Chicago, English Department, 600 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago, IL 60605.