The Ignatian Literary Magazine
Volume 34 2022
Special Thanks To: * University of San Francisco * University of San Francisco Department of English * Edition One Books * Dr. Omar F. Miranda * Megan Bounds
Contents Staff Letter from the Editor Preamble by Bex Brzostoski A Subway Ride in a Painting by Jonathon Billet
I III V 1 2
by Ria Dhingra FAMOUS IN MY MIND by Margaret Wagner Stooped by Jim Ross Hugging, Revisited by Judy Wachler Evolutionary Thought by Kathy Bruce Mosaic by Ria Dhingra ;0~` by
4 12 12 17 18 19
by Margaret Marcum by Barbara Tramonte Other by Valyntina Thomas frustration by Edward Supranowicz NOT JUST...A BOX by Mary Foulk As You Like It by Jim Ross Ode to Blue by Kalina Smith The Marriage Skeletor by Brandon Downing Forgetting by Kim Venkataraman Sunset Along the Tracks by Jim Ross by James Brett Gunter Envolée by James Latimer ORANGE SAND by Annie-Marie Danizio A Honeymoon's End by Fred McGavran Image 14 SF by Yellowdog Between the Pauses by Laine Derr by Kalani Leblanc
20 21 22 23 25 27 28 29 31 50 51 57 58 60 75 75 76
Blown by James Latimer My mother and I don't have much in common but: by Ria Dhingra "Be the Wall" by Beverly Rose Joyce How Do You Like Them Apples by David Goodrum IS SKY SAD? by Jeanne Rana BEACHES OF WAIKĪKĪ by Jim Kraus Abstract Portrait by Hanna Wright by Nidhi Agrawal THEY NEVER LEFT by Kanika Wright Breaking Point by Ron L. Dowell by Virginia Schnurr v721 (Faux Spirits Series) by Joe Lugara December 2017 by Exta Innings by Storeys Stories by Ernst Perdriel I Was Walking by Eva-Maria Sher READING TUTORIAL FOR A JESUIT MISSIONARY, 1668 by by Joy Waldinger Deleted Scenes by Zero Ramos Laforga Searching for Soon Ja Du (두순자) by Ron Dowell by by Ron Dowell Metamorphosis by Kathy Bruce Laughter by Hannah Jane Weber Fragmented Beauty by Kathy Bruce by Jean Kane Old Friends by Rich Glinnen THE DEATH PHOTOGRAPHER, MID-1800s by Yvonne Higgins Leach The Onion by Andrea Michalowsky
77 77 78 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 102 103 105 106 107 109 112 113 115 115 116 116 117 118 119
Two poems translated in English with the original in Russian by Ivan de Monbrison Ode to a Buffalo Nickel by Derek Jarvis 4 by Joy Waldinger Stray Dog by Zero Ramos Laforga by Alexander Russel EATING AT O'S by Peter Mahoney River of Ghosts by HEMORRHAGE by Ellis Elliott by Meredith Davies Hadaway IN TRANSITION by Peter Mahoney Blinds Leading the Blind by David Goodrum by Jeanne Rana Wild Hearts by Matthew Berg by Lea Abi Zeid Daou The Ghost by Brandon Downing by Nidhi Agrawal For Sale by Laine Derr Freshly Squeezed by Lea Abi Zeid Daou Flight by Hannah Jane Weber
this magazine contains sensitive material relating to: sexual assault, depression, murder, grief, violence, suicide, war, slavery, imperialism, colonialism, & oppression remember to practice self-care before, during, & after reading
122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 137 139 140 141 142 143
Lucia Verzola Co-Editor-in-Chief Co-Deputy Editor and Events and Publicity Chair
Kaila Figueroa Co-Deputy Editor Ari Berk Fiction Editor Sadasha Dixit Bex Brzostoski Poetry Editor Arts and Design Chair
Eunice Ross Arts and Design Assistant Chair Isabel Post Social Media and Web Presence Chair Nylah Andrews Publicity/Events Assisant Chair Mariah Garcia Reader Keasia Gray Reader Samantha Knapp Reader Kellen Martins Reader Anthony Paretti Reader Alex Resendiz Reader Elliot Tate Reader Jessie Matheson Thomas Reader Reader
Megan Bounds Advisor Omar F. Miranda Faculty Advisor
Letter From The Editors Dear reader, When found ourselves in very different places not just in our college careers, but our lives. Like others who began their college careers
shared at being allowed to create with others in a shared physical
possible. ists are hungry to collaborate together after being apart for so long.
As we have returned to reality in a post lock down world, it is stag-
ter for the Ignatian. As those who hold the privilege of deciding what range in the art that is published on these pages to be shared with
The book you are holding would not be possible without
ly-knowledgeable and resourceful TA, Megan Bounds, our badenthusiastic and supportive staff. And of course, we would like to thank all the artists included in our 34th issue, who have continued -
the Ignatian. We hope these pages will help you continue your own carry you through wherever life leads you.
METAMORPHOSIS, N O U N .
A RADICAL E R P I L L A R I N T O A B U T T E R F LY O R A C T I O N . A R E P R E S E N TAT I O N O F T H E C R E AT U R E S , C O N C E P T S . O C TAV I A S O M E T H I N G T H AT E V E R Y O N E H A S A B OT H S H A P E S, A N D I S S H A P E D, BY F O R C H A N G E T O B E A L L- E C O M HAPPEN IN ALL CORNERS. A ECTION OF SMALL PIECES, CHOSEN S U B M I S S I O N S TA D P O L E S C A U G H T THE EXPRESSION SENT TO US. WHO FOR WHOM IS THE PHRASE I N I TS E L F ? M AG A Z I N E S , A N D T H E H I S T O R I C A L LY H AV E B E E N , A N D E XC L U S I O N . W H O S E STO R I E S A R E S U P P O R T E D B Y T H E E S TA B L I S H M E TA M O R P H O S I S - T H E C H A N G I N G M E M O RY I N TO A P O E M , A N I D E A I N TO CA N U N C OV E R H I D D E N N UA N C E . I T C O M P L E T E LY . R E A D I N G , T O O , I S B E F O R E R E A D I N G A P O E M O R S T O R Y, S U B T LY D I F F E R E N T. THE BEST I T S W I T, O R T H R O U G H E X P E R I IS NEED FOR RADICAL CHANGE. ASSERTS IN HER EARTHSEED A LWAY S H A P P E N I N G . W E S H A P E T H E N O T . W H AT I N T E N T I O N A L I T Y C A N AS A S T U D E N T- R U N LITERARY L A S T I N G C H A N G E S W H E N W E H AV E H O P E T H AT T H I S E D I T I O N O F T H E H O P E I T I S T H E C AT E R P I L L A R B E T H AT F U T U R E I G N AT I A N T E A M S A N D A C T I N R E S I S TA N C E T O T H E T R A G AT E K E E P I N G . A N D S O M E D A Y , M A Y
T R A N S F O R M AT I O N , E . G . O F A C AT TA D P O L E I N T O A F R O G . A N O U N O F C H A N G E S T H AT H A P P E N T O B E I N G S , B U T L E R W R I T E S T H AT C H A N G E I S H A N D I N S H A P I N G - S O M E T H I N G T H AT E V E R YO N E . OT H E R S S P E A K O F H OW, PA S S I N G WE MUST MAKE IT L I T E R A RY M AG A Z I N E I S A C O L LFROM A LARGE POOL OF I N A B U C K E T. A T I N Y F R AC T I O N O F IS UPLIFTED? WHO IS DENIED? AND " L I T E R A RY M AG A Z I N E " A BA R R I E R P U B L I S H I N G WO R L D I N G E N E R A L , OFTEN CONTINUE TO BE, SITES OF A P P R O V E D ? W H AT L A N G U A G E I S MENT? WRITING ITSELF IS A TYPE OF OF A THOUGHT INTO A SENTENCE, A A S T O R Y. W R I T I N G C A N C L A R I F Y. I T C A N C H A N G E O U R U N D E R S TA N D I N G T R A N S F O R M AT I V E . W H O W E A R E AND WHO WE ARE AFTER, CAN BE W O R K , I N I T S V U L N E R A B I L I T Y, W I T H M E N TAT I O N , C H A N G E S U S . T H E R E CHANGE, AS O C TAV I A BUTLER S E R I E S , I S U N S T O P PA B L E A N D FUTURE WHETHER WE TRY TO OR WE BRING TO EVERYTHING WE DO? M AG A Z I N E , H OW CA N W E M A K E NEW EDITORS EVERY YEAR? WE M AG A Z I N E I S T H E B E G I N N I N G . W E COMING THE CHRYSALIS. WE HOPE WILL CONTINUE TO LEARN, THINK, DITIONAL FORMS OF LITERARY THE B U T T E R F LY BE BORN. VI
A Subway Ride in a Painting Jonathan Billet
I rode on a subway car in phosphorescent indigo.
Crawling out of the spell.
Magical apparitions. What disappears always reappears... The West is full of cowboys with guns.
hissing sound and clanking noises…
will always pass…
Florida Man, Wearing Crocs, Jumps into Alligator Pit Ria Dhingra
sciousness through drink. Life here is dreary. Once you get over -
The notion that this is all meaningless. The happy ending. The
It provides urgency. Get a Job. Take over the world.
curse the world out than try to win against it.
were to change the setting. But then again, there are no witnesses
rable, though. Like wind relentlessly pushing against the side of a -
dering to passivity.
Stop dreaming so big, she would always say. Dreams are for fools who get their arms ripped
Damn. The gators are bigger -
of faith. Leave Florida and come back better
a happy ending. Or two. Or three. Or seven. Start over. Move to
A leap of faith they said.
FAMOUS IN MY MIND Margaret Wagner
his Carcassonne address on the edge of a page in her notebook, sonne, in the south of France. the bridge. Jean Carpentier er”] good [sic]
We stopped to let Jean off and had champagne with his father and several other Frenchmen. Best I at 5:30 p.m. What a Sunday afternoon! -
ty winery outside of town, which had a walled courtyard between
The Widow Clic-
wrapped in a double paper bag, for weeks before I found a post of-
thing to the effect of,
. My grandfather once
val walls but old enough to be a walking street with no cars allowed.
More disappointing, instead of being discovered by a pres-
winery and a creepy stalker. -
of Madonna, a Black Madonna. The Black Madonna was associat-
face just as rain started to fall. A lane of cobblestones bordered Grand Escalier
and heard the occasional scrapes of feet or creaks of the wooden around the altar had wings that pointed skyward, three feet above the chapel was that a bell was reputed to have rung in landlocked -
cloaked in a crown, a white gown with gold brocade, and a white by veneration. -
the open car window a few weeks after her death. I waited for an answer. Decades after I read about the theory of evolution in National Geographic -
ferme comme le roc” . As I read those words, bells began to ring. Bells upon bells, as if peace were
friends. darling with all . Perhaps her love of the place was boosted because it was their
on a street that was barely wider than the car. out and saw there was a key lock. I backed up past a few curves in
Lead glass windows near the reception desk were peaked at the
and clear stained-glass windows in the ceiling. The walls were covwalled city on the top of the hill. Wood-paneled doors showcased
[a town in southern France with a cathedral built out of brick, not stone]
as burghers holding their heads in their hands was placed between -
I nestled into one of the well-worn, brownish-red club
help steady herself as we walked across a country club golf course tracing her journey would inspire a spiritual relatedness. -
Stooped Jim Ross
HUGGING, REVISITED Judy Wachler
In the split second that I stood, grabbing this stranger by the chest,
not sure of how to undo the awkwardness, I thought he was going to
about checking the lasagna. No words were spoken but there was pened. -
gesture, and yet, as I write these words, I can still feel a niggling disto be. I -
This Michael-and-Jenny story took place long before the
That was a hug of liberation that spoke of the release of isolation, of
down as they have been. As the weekend with Jenny and Michael progressed, I got to
noticed that he responded to Jenny with tenderness. They are both
could see that he loved her, and the foolish coolness I had felt for
Saturday night we went to an Italian restaurant for dinner on could watch nightfall as the pleasure boats returned to harbor. A
the server nodded. My husband, caught up in the story he was tell-
sion of his gesture.
those words spoken, to everyone, at his wedding. growing doubt about what I think I know to be true, which is just a fancy way of saying, Wrong again. Interesting. I also used to know as true that as we get older, we get wiser. I still believe in that possibility,
And along with this growing love, I feel a deep interest (anoth-
tongue//his tendency to want the last word//practicing
by//dabbling in each and every sport and activity//wanting
Evolutionary Thought Kathy Bruce
Margaret Marcum tiny seed inside tiny world,
will always stay that way inside tiny life
to her anyway inside a house too old to hold tiny wings, falling heart.
Barbara Tramonte Of oppression Of service
Who not only helped to free slaves
And the elderly In Auburn, New York Who killed and gutted pigs
Pick yourself up and
I have history and dirt,
hands land stand
take away the pain insane
NOT JUST...A BOX Mary Foulk
cedar urn with cross inlay Not just surrounding dirt or white daisies sweeping the etched stone of cracked headstones or
of egg salad and ritualed awkwardness Not just the obituary no one wanted to write, life interrupted and adjectives that should have been uttered Not just lawyers deconstructing your estate of found furniture and
Not just that Sunday, our Sundays, too brief, laughter, laughing, laugh
unfolding your heart
that closet, that closet that closet, that closet
on the subway
Not just the neighborhood boys you longed for Not just any loss
Not just you, Not just questions, these words Not just
Ode to Blue Kalina Smith
And yet, the sun burns bright in his sky,
For the rides in your red convertible and the Buckcherry you crooned,
# As You Like It Jim Ross
The Marriage Skeletor Brandon Downing
Forgetting KimForgetting Venkataraman
Kim Venkataraman They say I’m crazy but I have a good time I’m just clues at Ithe scene of the crime Theylooking say I’mfor crazy but have a good time Life’s for been good to me so far I’m just looking clues at the scene of the crime —Joe Walsh, “Life’s Been Good” Life’s been good to me so far —Joe Walsh, “Life’s Been Good”
at the front of the bus. And it was probably against the rules or bag at the front of the bus. And it was probably against the pressing her forehead against the window, she had a weird feeling
straight highway into the boondocks of Maine, the door would evenup and down the hills of the boring, straight highway into the boondocks of Maine, the door would eventually open to show
neater. notebooks, not even reading, just enjoying the satisfying look her cursive rounder and neater. There had better be a decent radio station. If there not caring about anyone else. The jolt of the bus as it stopped Clearly, Nancy was as screwed up as every other adult in the
She grabbed her backpack and sweatshirt and quickly walked to the front. She reached up to yank on the handle of her duffel, and She put her bag down on the concrete and looked back to seeout. if anyone else washer getting off theand bus,sweatshirt but the driver nodShe grabbed backpack andjust quickly dedwalked and closed door. There wereup only few on cars in handle the parking to thethe front. She reached to ayank the of it down for her. She put her bag down on the concrete and looked back to see if anyone else was getting off the bus, but the driver wood-paneled wagon, furiously. just noddedstation and closed thewaving door. There were only a few cars leg and her backpack hanging off one shoulder. waving furiously. thing. a big hug, which was awkward with the big bag leaning against where. You look just like Nan did when she was your age.
that she had yet to say a word, but she leaned back against the
Rick shrugged and looked at her over the top of his glass-
Rick shrugged and looked at her over the top of his
about getting a job there.” fun. If you want to get a job here, though, Rick knows nearly everycle added.
eryone in the whole eighth grade was going.” She glanced up.
on the fun. If you want to get a job here, though, Rick knows Sad eyes, turn the other way I don’t want to see you cry Sad eyes, you knew there’d come a day When we would have to say “goodbye” —Robert John, “Sad Eyes” anything. Thinking about trying to get a job, and then working
her tape player, she noticed how the light of the setting sun re-
her bed, the closet doors that looked like wood but were as light as the way up the walls. Sad eyes, turn the other way I don’t want to see you cry nonstop droningSad of the announcers interrupted loud voices and eyes, you knew there’d come aby day When we would have to say “goodbye” —Robert John, “Sad Eyes”
was growing in the patch of dirt. sic on her tape player, she noticed how the light of the setting picture above her bed, the closet doors that looked like wood yellow tiles that went all the way up the walls. -
tae,toand the…darn things have all died.” hear the nonstop droning of the announcers interrupted by loud voices and cheering. Each night after dinner, Beth went
their arborvitae, and the…darn things have all died.” tie the boat and had to get up to do the whole thing again. She was sweating even before she started rowing. The oars kept spinning the whole row again.” pointing in the wrong direction and had to try to correct her course. As she swore under her breath, she hoped that no one was watch-
Why you had to sit backward to row, she had no frigen out. the boat and had to get up and do the whole thing again. She was sweating even before she started rowing. The oars kept spinning in her hands, and they hit the water awkwardly atto try to correct her course. As she swore under her breath, houses that lined the cove.
Spring was never waiting for us, dear It ran one step ahead As we followed in the dance —Donna Summer, “MacArthur Park”
recorded on her tape player, pausing it every few seconds to write
that was taken out. outdoor shower.” She tried to keep her balance as the dock rocked slightly, hopnotebook. -
Spring was never waiting for us, dear It ran one step ahead As we followed in the dance —Donna Summer, “MacArthur Park”
Just past the cluster of buildings, he turned down a dirt road er.”
closed the notebook. have a pretty decent view of the sunset.”
and docks in front. She walked across the lawn to look at the water, feeling as
if she was trespassing. On the way back, they took a different road
here with us.” Just past the cluster of buildings, he turned down a dirt be wanted.
It’s not the perfume that you wear not the ribbons in your hair rippled, dark blueIt’s water. And I don’t mind you comin’ here And wastin’ all my time Cars, “Just What I Needed” island have a pretty decent view of—The sunset.”
houses.” give a shit what anyone thought anyway.
- tised . Other than that, there was a launShe walked across the lawn to look at the water, feeling as if she was trespassing. On the way back, they took a and a store called Maine-ly Treasurers that was closed. , she thought as she stood and two pairs of headphones.
suddenly had rows of green, bushy plants, that she actually felt She really good to be wanted. It’s not the perfume that you wear It’s not the ribbons in your hair And I don’t mind you comin’ here And wastin’ all my time —The Cars, “Just What I Needed”
up the tires and greased the chain on an old bike in the gajokes.
shit what anyone thought, anyway. know where to go. Afraid of getting lost, she stayed on the
Every time they were sure that they was had you caught store called Maine-ly Treasurers closed. You were quicker than they thought You’d just turn your back and walk as she stood , she thought —Bob Seger, “Still The Same”
garden that suddenly had rows of green, bushy plants, that even call
. She untied the boat and began rowing out
It was only having a great time.
into their jokes. Good times These are the good times Leave your cares behind These are the good times —Chic, “Good Times”
on Sunday afternoon. So here she was, the only girl in a bikini, scooping handfuls of rocky sand onto her feet in front of her blan-
going into the ninth grade, and Jeff was going to be in tenth. Every time they were sure they had you caught You were quicker than they thought You’d just turn your back and walk —Bob Seger, “Still The Same”
When they got hot, they threw a Frisbee in the surf until the -
was one of the least interesting people at her junior high in New Jersey, but still, it was kindwhen of nice to feel weredinner. interested in of doing it each night Beth wasthey cooking It had
the tight pull of the burnt skin on her shoulders and thighs.
They all looked at her as if what she said was confusing or The about a thousand people on the island instead of a couple hundred. -
golf club or play tennis. And they have parties that the island peoGood times These are the good times Leave your cares behind These are the good times —Chic, “Good Times”
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong And I grew strong And I learned how to get along —Gloria Gaynor, “I Will Survive”
aunt called her into the kitchen.
the only girl in a bikini, scooping handfuls of rocky sand onto
When they got hot, they threw a Frisbee in the surf it…” what to say. people at her junior high in New Jersey, but still, it was kind of
hercould that. feel the tight pull of the burnt skin on her shoulders and thighs. Nobody gets too much heaven no more It’s much harder to come by I’m waiting in line Nobody gets too much love anymore —Bee Gees, “Too Much Heaven”
self a sandwich, put on her bathing suit, and biked to the beach. They all looked at her as if what she said was confusare about a thousand people on the island, instead of a couAnd there was nothing people.”
keptorwondering what would be like stay have on the islandthat in the the golf club or itplay tennis. Andtothey parties thefall.
stood. gether. There was no way in New Jersey that anyone older would ever be caught dead with younger kids. There were cans Kept thinking I could never live without you by my sideof beer in cartons on the sand, and long, logs been But then I spent so many nightssilvery thinkingdriftwood how you did mehad wrong And I grew strong And I learned how to get along Sarah, and they introduced her to a“Ifew —Gloria Gaynor, Will people. Survive” She slowly sipped a beer while they talked. her aunt called her into the kitchen.
loads of friends.” Yes,
longer if you like it…” think what to say.
had been cloudy all day, but the wind picked up in the afternoon,
Nobody gets too much heaven no more It’s much harder to come by I’m waiting in line clouds and the ocean. The waves picked and she could feel the Nobody gets too much loveup, anymore —Bee Gees, “Too Much Heaven” and then the other by the waves and the outgoing tide. She was hurriedly putting the clipboard and chair in the shed herself a sandwich, put on her bathing suit, and biked to the -
pulled on the oars with strong, even strokes, but despite that, she And there was nothing again, pulling as hard as she could, afraid to check to see if she
stay on the island in the fall. While she wanted to be pissed, standing at the door with a towel. sea like that!” she liked the idea of a fresh start at a new school. Maybe -
hanging out together. There was no way in New Jersey that anyone older would ever be caught dead with younger kids. There were cans of beer in cartons on the sand, and long, silvery driftwood logs had been pulled up for seats around unless the power went out and she absolutely had to. of working ontolyrics listening to the radio in hera andInstead they introduced her a feworpeople. She slowly sipped beer while they talked.
ed the seconds until she heard the thunder. To distract her, Beth talked about their plans to go back-to-school shopping that weekend. they trusted her, but they wanted her to be safe. It felt so difWhen lonely days turn to lonely nights You take a trip to the city lights And take the long way home long way home on the shore throughTake the the woods. Above her, the sky was —Supertramp, “Take the Long Way Home”
deer stepped out of the woods and crossed the road. When -
I don’t need you to worry for me ’cause I’m alright
Beth waited for her I don’t want you to to speak. tell me it’s time to come home I don’t care what you say anymore this is my life Go ahead with your own life leave me alone —Billy Joel, “My Life”
the afternoon, and the clouds had thickened and darkened. es of the sky and the water. But when she began to close up at
different. andby they she parked. thestood wavestogether and thewhile outgoing tide. She was hurriedly putting the clipboard and chair in
ers were full of water. She pulled on the oars with strong,
began to row again, pulling as hard as she could, afraid to together on the lawn, the ocean sparkling black and silver behind
walking up the lawn, and Beth was standing at the door with a towel.
row so fast in a sea like that!”
deciding not to ask unless the power went out and she absolutely had to. Instead of working on lyrics or listening to the radio in
her breath while she counted the seconds until she heard the thunder. To distract her, Beth talked about their plans to go back to school shopping that weekend.
When lonely days turn to lonely nights You take a trip to the city lights And take the long way home Take the long way home —Supertramp, “Take the Long Way Home”
Beth waited for her to speak.
it outside, and they stood together while she parked.
Sunset Along the Tracks
ANAN OUNCE OUNCE OFOF PREVENTION PREVENTION James James Brett Brett Gunter Gunter
sun, a broken saucer disappearing along the ridge beyond The road traced a long, gradual curve to the south, and the The road traced a long, gradual curve to the south, and through tons of solid granite was long forgotten, but he gave thanks race who cut this road through tons of solid granite was long others in his band held the bottleneck. Slon and Weasel, hidden near the north entrance to the pass, his band held the bottleneck.
veered right. They halted between two fallen slabs of granite that created a cul-de-sac with the cliff wall, scarcely larger than their believe her a court lady; her haughty aspect was so severe,
lips in anticipation. her tiny, gloved hand. riders veered right. They halted between two fallen slabs of graniteand that created a cul-de-sac with the cliff wall, scarceannoyed bone-weary.
weapons ready. his roan stallion protected the fourth. The warrior offered his hand. faintly annoyed and bone-weary. weapons ready.
is rather large.”hair, short and curly, sat atop a pleasant, if weathDark blond
clothes, I will hear of nothing else for hours. I prefer to avoid that.” far too often.
One is rather large.”
words. The situation continued to elude his control.
a doorway in Beshti, sheltered by the arch. Recall I had to wipe the blood.” words. The situation continued to elude his control. tain. It goes everywhere.”
swallowed hard. been watching in Beshti, you would know what happens when neck like a fountain. It goes everywhere.”
pairright-handed, to ride through without paying swallowed hard. his toll. All that talk of eight and --
speed. bly get through to you, and there is little I can do to prevent safe and sound.”
the role to life.”
the pair to ride through without paying his toll. All that talk of
of the pass; Flan and Bora, having departed in silence, were staggering run. speed. -
you to your destination safe and sound.”
hand, it has never failed.”
ORANGE SAND Annie-Marie Danizio
Sophie, our baby sister, had been left with our grand-
grain orange sand and see us wading in hollow water holes
stone top of a water tank near the rough hedge of cactus
spiky and granulated skins. repeating that phrase, “El cerdo está en la cisterna.” My father “Le cochon est dans la citerne.” My cousin and brother were born a week apart and are red-haired teenage girl who carries an air of superiority about
hairred-haired is lighter, short andgirl wavy. teenage who carries an air of superiority about
orange insides and delight in the juicy substance within the spiky hair. My hair is lighter, short and wavy. shell. My parents and Janine negotiate the price of a big dark-green their viscous orange insides and delight in the juicy substance within a spiky shell. My parents and Janine negotiate the price of a big -
Claude. Claude was girlish with a pretty, round face, but she was -wild gry. When I did not have breasts, I could sit on his lap. I could er and Claude. She was girlish with a pretty, round face, but
than his rebellious sister. the town of Villefranche de Rouergue. She was the oldest -
A Honeymoon's End
Spears had heard it without paying attention, as he their shoes along the hard edge of the sand as the tide slipped
out at the sea.
drawn They intoSpears the followed conversation. the college age hostess to a table on the pafrowned. tio. harbor.” They sat down on a bench at the docks to put on their together other table. they had longed about the tapping, andfor. everyone had their own theory about Their hotel overlooked the harbor, and a seafood restaurant The tapping was like an irregular pulse. Charles and Debbie eachonordered out the bed. a glass of white wine. A door facing the sea opened onto the balcony. When she ents. She said they heard tapping after a destroyer depth charged a being drawn into the conversation. slept. for they as help.”sat down at the bar to wait for their table at the restaurant. The server brought the wine. delayed again while she was treated for breast cancer. Now, subject. Their hotel overlooked the harbor, and a seafood sailparadise. when they stayed with his grandparents during vacations. across the table his hand. For another half hour, they forgot stretched out to ontake the bed. the tapping. A door facing the sea opened onto the balcony. When she opened the door, they could hear the tapping again. Tower of Babel collapsed into the sand to the jeers of passing no-
and disappeared. said as they sat down at the bar to wait for their table at the restaurant. -
Spears raised his binoculars and looked at the ship. A bright yellow tube half its length lay alongside. -
devastated when the Tower of Babel collapsed into the sand reverie. They followed the college age hostess to a table on the sun.patio. Spears looked up. It looked like late fall when the air was never clear of fog. The Navy ship had tied up at the pier with the yellow tube chic at another table. ready. Spears took down and stowed the sails while Debbie stood through the vacationers, andlike twoan gray Navy buses waiting The tapping was irregular pulse.were Charles andin Debbie each ordered a glass of white wine.
and disappeared. parents. She said they heard tapping after a destroyer depth
calling for help.” The server brought the wine. Spears raised his binoculars and looked at the ship. A bright yellow half its length lay alongside. the tube subject.
cations. reaching across the table to take his hand. For another half hour, they forgot the tapping. -sun. Spears looked up. It looked like late fall when the air was never clear fog. spot andofdisappeared. The Navy ship had tied up at the pier with the yellow tube out.” ready. Spears took down and stowed the sails while Debbie stood row.” through the vacationers, and two gray Navy buses were waiting in
stopped.” Spears raised his binoculars and looked at the ship. A bright yellow tube half its length lay alongside. the crew.”
earlier. When they returned to the harbor in the late afternoon,
Spears looked up. It looked like late fall when the air was never clear of fog. The Navy ship had tied up at the pier with the yellow as at the ready. Spears took down and stowed the sails while networks were edging through the vacationers, and two gray
a hodgepodge of overalls and baggy clothing wearing black
she laughed. Spears and Debbie had reached the edge of the crowd They dodged the TV crews by slipping into the crowd andThey had to wait at the bar again before getting a table. Evcrew.
to get up.
and Debbie followed the hostess onto the patio. and ordered another drink.
to call her sons.
less,” she laughed. They dodged the TV crews by slipping into the crowd fore dinner. They had to wait at the bar again before getting a table.
started to get up.
Spears and Debbie followed the hostess onto the patio.
they were seated. She went out on the balcony after they returned to their way.
well stay here and enjoy the sea air.”
derful day. chine that printed it out on thin carbon paper. possibly understand what was going on.
islands into the open sea. The air was so bright and fresh Spears table. peared. back to heaven,” Brenda answered, turning Spears for approval. Debbie looked at Charles. a reservation, they walked to the restaurant and went to the bar to ever asked for,” he said slowly. thought. touched her wine.
ble again. The newlyweds looked away at the big screen TV. night,” the anchor said over a video of frantic Washingtonians
laugh. wonderful day. -
close.” the islands into the open sea. The air was so bright and fresh
softly. Brenda sniffed and they stopped sobbing. to call in a reservation, walked to the restaurant and went
touched her wine.
set a battery-powered radio in front of the bottles. After the ster and Debbie the Boston scrod, and they both declined dessert. tonight.”
pie. have it end. sphere. Convinced the attack had failed because of its cyber It was so dark going back to the hotel that they nearly had to feel their way. begun its long feared attack on Seoul with conventional artil-
As they followed the hostess onto the patio, Spears and Debbie stopped. Streaks like silver vapor trails were arching across the sky over the Bay.
cell phone and stocks, and Brenda looked around for an escape that was no longer possible.
Resurrection,” the priest replied.
said softly. Brenda sniffed and stopped sobbing. -
the church.” Brenda winced.
have nuked us out.” ster and Debbie the Boston scrod, and they both declined dessert. ing tonight.” cherry pie. on the sidewalk. tant to have it end. It was so dark going back to the hotel that they nearly had to feel their way. The church was set on a bluff overlooking the sea like a -looking at the sky. The golden sphere over the Bay was twisting like A few steps further they found the entrance to their hotel.
angrily. hear people crying behind closed doors. None of the other people were talking. tide, they fell into a deep sleep. Although the blinds were
closed and the curtains drawn, it was lighter than the brightest
curtains and blinds and went out onto the balcony. The sea
answer. and then laughed at her question.
The hall that had been so dark the night before was
slipped out. Spears held the door to the stairs for Debbie and -
go to the church.”
Brenda winced. reans have nuked us out.” tinued.
lage blurring in and out of brightness thicker than air. There
The church was set on a bluff overlooking the sea like to preserve at the edge of the New World. The sign at the everyone was outside looking at the sky. The golden sphere over the Bay was twisting like a kaleidoscope into shapes of towns along country roads.
asked angrily. None of the other people were talking.
as beautiful and fragile as a village in gold leaf was spinning
us forever in a golden city with the River of Life and a new
The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints.
Image 14 SF Yellowdog
Between the Pauses
grey gnatcatchers darting across
breast-to-breast, a will to break
Kalani Leblanc Dearest great great great granddaughter,
at the cost of sleeping where I land. and he gave NBC the rights to reboot Turns out, poets
was declared a religion. The poet popes are insisting
The Vatican of Seattle. Your great great great great grandfather and I have divorced.
Blown James Latimer
My mother and I don’t have much in common but: Ria Dhingra
look like her.
speaks in half truths. I, too, have started liking long walks, the kind where you
"Be the Wall"
Beverly Rose Joyce us out. On a blacktop fondant parking lot. Like ground. Lines. Circles. Blocks. Striped on. Paint worn in heavy sneaker spots. The whistle. It was our pulse. It warned of over the hill. The pea. To its rattle we rolled stones.
her big day in May. The wall. Where the kids who did not listen chart was not etched along the jagged edges of its paved ends. It would have been easy to do. With the grooves of the grout. In between the bricks. One day there was a girl. On the wall. By herself. She was not a tree. Bereft of her plot of sloppily cut carpet, she sat. Branches folded in her lap. She backed into the hot right angle as far as she could go. Where knotweeds evidenced the White canvas sneakers. With a tiny blue rubber license plate that nearly Jeans. Wide at hip
cheek. T-shirt. The kind with lots of energy and hue. Dark blue everywhere other than around her
white icing and the round sprinkles on top. The tip loop. Ribbon-tied together like two balloons, they old one at the rear of the school. Stuffed with rolling wooden tables that folded up in two. With benches, attached by cold bright poles. So the kids ister. She ushered us through that block cylinder at us I found it wonderful. The way those hair tethers clinked Or a clacker. When the round drops inside the populated clock When she walked, they pool cue to rack clacked.
With each step. Right, again. Left, again. I. wanted. those. braids.
ined holding those stringed Baodings. What I Those tasteless gobstoppers. During tests. During
bought with our allowances pocketed all week, up at the quickie store at the end of our street. The shaker collection I had ever seen. No joke. She literally had hundreds of those things. In curio cab-
at a stretch olive. Skin. It was a part of a person -
taped to it was a yellow rectangle with a red sharp-
plies I was not prejudiced.
ed the hall. Rushed outside. And kept going. They went straight to the bars. To the hoop. To the slide. did they not know they were wrong to leave her er question. I never thought about that before. No. I would not. So, there it was. The truth. I had stood by. I asked
should have stood
. For her. The girl. I let the Be the wall. Those
to solidly stand behind what is right. Despite what end of the day, I would rather be the bricks which solidly hold others up than the sticks and stones that lie scattered at their feet on the ground.
How Do You Like Them Apples David Goodrum
IS SKY SAD? Rana ISJeanne SKY SAD? Jeanne Rana Is sky sad Is sky sad
sky itself is polluted and seas contain sky the itself is polluted a continent ofcontain plastic and the seas a continent of plastic such an ache such an ache looking out at the sparkling bay looking out at the sparkling bay as a single white pelican glides the water as ainches single above white pelican glides inches above the water
We can yet be saved. As long as sun rises We can yet be saved. As long as sun rises there is hope. there is hope. I console sky, I console sky, slowly to the east slowly to the east
BEACHES OF WAIKĪKĪ Jim Kraus OF WAIKĪKĪ BEACHES Jim Kraus
for corporeal delight, sunshine and naked desire walking and serenely wet for corporeal delight, sunshine and naked desire walking and serenely wet the path back to its own face, the path back to its own face,
COW DUST HOUR Nidhi Agrawal COW DUST HOUR Nidhi Agrawal
The Sun grows larger in her right pupil, The Sun grows larger in her right pupil,
Oh, Mother! I have transposed to a ghoul Oh, Mother! I have transposed to a ghoul When twilight rises to the throat of the sky, When twilight rises to the throat of the sky,
Abstract Portrait Hanna Wright Abstract Portrait Hanna Wright
86 80 #
They Never Left They Never Kanika WrightLeft Kanika Wright
And just like that, And just like that, An island of beautiful sadness conquered shorelines, An battered, island of beautiful sadness blurredconquered languages, battered, shorelines, blurred languages, that fell deeper than any anchor. that fell deeper than any anchor. only to be switched to harsh, colonial syllables only to be switched to harsh, colonial syllables Lottery stands are awash on every street corner, Lottery stands are awash on every street corner, They left They left and left the island with no soul. and left the island with no soul.
Breaking Point Ron L. Dowell Breaking Point Ron L. Dowell
track aerial tradition.I hear I hear track our our aerial tradition.
I break rank and stiffen I break rank and stiffen without the constant song of our quarrel without the constant song of our quarrel
NUDE WITH A CAT 1910 NUDE WITH AVirginia CAT 1910 Schnurr Virginia Schnurr
No No longer the the proper color, I reach a dead endend longer proper color, I reach a dead
Today I would greet death veryvery sadly, Today I would greet death sadly,
On On a list of notable artists a list of notable artists Marc andand his his horse Marc horse desecrated at Verdun. desecrated at Verdun. Never to be painted again, Never to be painted again, the the Pubic Wars are are over. Pubic Wars over.
v721 (Faux Spirits Series) Joe Lugara v721 (Faux Spirits Series) Joe Lugara
December 2017 Chloe December Bell 2017 Chloe Bell
on eyelashes, on windshields, on streetlights that serve little on eyelashes, on windshields, on streetlights that serve little
around the kitchen while you dig out the sleds. around the kitchen while you dig out the sleds.
holding our own cheap plastic saucer, then side by side own cheap plastic saucer, then side by side we holding slide at our breakneck speed between cars, houses, we slide at breakneck speed between cars, houses, rocks, bottle glass. We return again and again to the top, rocks, bottle glass. We return again and again to the top, of slush collect along the fringes of our protection, ready of slush collect along the fringes of our protection, ready
Extra Innings Colton Extra Green Innings Colton Green
happen.” die for it to happen.”
the eye. ready begun, and he knew it. Since the beginning of last cling peaches in a cold can. Walking with a walker to in a wheelrecliner to downright bedbound. Big Daddy to little baby.learner Walking with a walker in a wheelchair only. Lifelong bedbound. Big Daddy to little baby.
burgers, dogs and corn on the cob butter the air as August
teacher with nine weeks off, this is the third year that I will have
high school teacher with nine weeks off, this is the third year -
get old without trying, need help without asking. Days pass
either side of the hospital bed by the one window in the dark living
innings, bases loaded, full count, down by three. Pablo Sandoval, -
brothers.” Or which breath will be the last. No one can tell us when. Sequoia Avenue, a husky blue jay has landed on the greenest
skills kill a live thing and eat it requires repetition. After another sototired.” like us when. on Sequoia Avenue, a husky blue jay has landed on the
to kill a live thing and eat it requires repetition. After another Sis and I will be wide-eyed children with their daddy on his last season. We will never have been so focused on each other, so alive to the gift life is, so aware of his on-off grasp of the pres-
The barebones of the story is that Sis and I will be
wide-eyed children with their daddy on his deathbed. On the We verywill end, gravity gangs balance, nearsofalls and never have beenup soon focused on with eachthe other, alive to the gift life is, so aware of his on-off grasp of the present
Len, I carefully choose our topics. Running cross-country is good what it feels like to rest a hand on his chest, caress his back -
start our last conversation and Sis will follow with how we back and back. for a person to die, for the spirit to think itself into the air and
how often it wins. Near the very end, gravity gangs up on balance, with the near falls and real falls. Tears are shed. dirt shade. a blowout. it, about the pain, about the suffering in these curious days before ning cross-country is good for a brief back-and-forth. The old
Lucky, also talkative, gobbles up everything and delivers the go convulsive at the crack of a bat. I could cry a gallon. Instead, I default to denial. When Len starts again with the ohs and ows, Sis likes towant to hear about it, about the pain, about the suffering in watch Blue be Blue.
do it. Me. So, I watch Len breathe and listen to his lungs. -
convulsive at the crack of a bat. I could cry a gallon. Instead, I default to denial. like that. When Len starts again with the ohs and ows, Sis likes -
inside his own head and heart out there in the world without any of us close by, will perish. ty-two!”
answer to it all. Sis brought a large El Pollo Loco -
rise to the ceiling corner and get stuck, darting back and -
by on the right and left sides of his hospital bed. I was holding his -
about how an elderly father always wants his adult son to get a haircut, even when the son just got one. About how the father sonthat. gets a haircut he leans into the father with his new look, talking - er-on-the-sides-and-longer-on-top, the tapered back of the head,
blue jay. About how the son entertains the father for approval, for a laugh, the way sons do without with fathers. howby, thewill father rolls out there in the world any ofAbout us close perish. his eyes and shakes his head, for a laugh, the way fathers do with Sis and I laughed our heads off that night, wiping tears the whole -
to the house in Carlsbad for a quick goodbye. Roy and big broth-
dry skin, wet cloth for the forehead and his cold peaches in heavy to the I got the airline to waive fee by hisChicago hospital redeye. bed. I was holding his right handthe in achange handshake .”
I stopped to stare and think it all over. Len stared back at The Panda was playing third base and hitting cleanup. We us. father Soon, ever. he was in aloud the ceiling corner, glossy eyesI darting Welost read our two birthday cards. liked back and forth at who he saw. Roy and I placed our hands on his chest
would start with the story of an elderly father who always wants his adult son to get a haircut, even when the son just on her hair style. About how when the son gets a haircut different angles, presenting the left and right, the shorter-onthe-sides-and-longer-on-top, the tapered back of the head,
father for approval, for a laugh, the way sons do with fathers. About how the father rolls his eyes and shakes his head, for I got out of the car and stepped into the dry heat of a Central ovation. Sis and I laughed our heads off that night, wiping air. tears I closed driver-side door and rested it to consider thethe whole show. Len grinned at hisagainst kids busting a gut.
possible. south, Roy stayed. Cora answered the door, blinking against
dry skin, wet cloth for the forehead and his cold peaches in the pulsating runway, a stationary jet took a big breath and then slowly unleashed its power, accelerating for what felt like a very-
I stopped to stare and think it all over. Len stared back
ner, glossy eyes darting back and forth at who he saw. Roy
Storeys Stories Ernst Perdriel
I got out of the car and stepped into the dry heat of a -
hands together for a sacred prayer of gratitude. I walked ing runway a stationary jet took a big breath and then slowly unleashed its power, accelerating for what felt like a very -
Storeys Stories Ernst Perdriel
I Was Walking Eva-Maria Sher
I was walking in a strange city.
It was inscribed with the following
one on top of the other. of straw, each delicately tinted in pastels. I felt pretty. But I was weeping as I was walking
I had left and laptop behind
those strange head-coverings
topple. Soon I encountered
and began to run. The hats wobbled. Not a soul in the street.
I was naked. My legs gave out. peering through a pair of goggles. She did not respond
in this wilderness
I heard a strange My heart longed to go there. Ahead in battle fatigues. with his gun. My necklace and jangled and fell. into the dirt.
READING TUTORIAL FOR A JESUIT MISSIONARY, 1668 Cristina Legarda
This is what you wrote, Father Alcina,
but with an alphasyllabary,
on a spirit in our path.
we announce, to assure
we pronounce over our crying infants,
for reality and life. You noted with surprise,
but ever-present in the stories unfolding. Our people, Father Alcina, are the syllables
and love the glory you cannot see. Only then, only then will you understand.
7 oranges and butterflies Joy Waldinger
Deleted Scenes Zero Ramos Laforga
he slides when the cutscene, when the cutscene, when the cut, when the cut, when the cut, when the cut trips, when the cutscene trips, when the cutscene trips, when the cut, trips up, trips up, trip cut when he trips, trips up, trip if he saw, when he cuts, when the cutscene, trips when he trips, when he trips, trip up, trip stutter into spit, as you spit, as you spit so you stutter as you spit so spit into stutter, stutter, spit, spit out, spit, spit, then slip, as you spit, as you spit, as you keep spitting out then silence in silence
stop the silence, the silence,
so stop in silence, in silence, in silence, silence speaks, speaks, speaks out, speak out in silence, in silence, in silence so silence, it speaks, speaks out, speaks out in silence, in silence,
in silence spit it out, spit speaks, when he trips, when he trips in silence, silence, trip out.
Searching for Soon Ja Du (두순자) Ron Dowell
into the airline coach
twelve hours later at Incheon Airport
Soon Ja Du (두순자 Liquor store counter
her life valued less
swings in our backyard.
tossed up on the counter in the ubiquitous
creep along Apgujeong Rodeo Road.
a thing, and
with all that surrounds a peninsula
with seasoned spinach, carrots, vinegary sunny-side eggs. The sticky day is good
and biting garlic, palatable food, beautiful like her. She pushes away orange slices. The waiter bows, with two hands, he offers
Trust Justice 두순자 was not
Absit Omen or Cross Your Fingers Mary P. Chatfield
that thunder on the left whereas thunder on the right was good. But what if you were facing the other way and thought you were having You could go through the whole day the whole week without worrying even if Jupiter had wanted you to, about when the good luck was going to appear.
that not having bad luck was good luck. So where did that leave you when it started to thunder
of people all whirling about to get the thunder right when the heavens open and it starts to pour rain.
Against My Wheel, or The Shopping Cart Ballad Ron Dowell
dark oleander leaves sway along the freeway sound wall yellow rose nosegay grieves
was born for grocery stores whisking shoppers down aisles
checkout where purses bled through sliding doors, to parking lots, content bearing their haul I nestled with siblings until sweaty attendants called
where Robert broke the link
Retrieval rescue, the last thing I recall torn apart front wheel, lower chassis tray gone rear boot wheel ripped, red child
to feel like an other
Metamorphosis Kathy Bruce
Hannah Jane Weber She shakes our laundry
Fragmented Beauty Kathy Bruce
OUR SKELETON CREW
looks back, necks swiveled
so we strangle on our dead. Three
Old Friends Rich Glinnen
Sits outside a coffee shop You know the type,
Not on vibrate, not silenced, So as not to be rude And endanger With cancer.
THE DEATH PHOTOGRAPHER, MID-1800s Yvonne Higgins Leach
Mostly children. Whatever was there burned out in the ravaged last breath.
by blowing breath at the cuff.
The father who needed help propping Dressed and suddenly standing in his cotton shirt,
Andrea Michalowsky core
The boy I love slices an onion. in forever. The juices do not burn his blue eyes.
outside Venice, slices an onion to add to the pan with our eggs.
Over his stove close to Venice, the boy I will
because I hunger.
slices an onion in his strong hands to add to the pan hot with oil.
I know he believes
as I hunger. in forever and in fate. Seated on the bed,
Over the stove
love is forever tress we use as a bed, ignoring the tears. I understand so little of his language.
pricked by tears.
Although he wears no goggles and
Although he wears no goggles, the juices do not burn his lake-blue eyes.
the juices do not burn his stunning lake-blue eyes.
Over the gas-tank the gas-tank that serves house where he lives the Afghan boy love slices an onion to add to the pan
with the burner that sits at an angle because in a drunken rage against the wall one night while we listened these refugees live
and cheap eggs. again and again, the Afghan I will continue to love slices a Already, I know he believes Allah is the only god. Already, I know he believes love is forever and . Seated alongside his Afghan friends, on one of the dirty ignoring the others, I understand so little of their shared language. I hardly listen as they speak.
letters on a line but can
and cheap agai.
Already, I know he believes Allah decides who enters heaven, its seven layers held up by pillars we cannot see. I know
Although he wears no goggles, although he holds neither bread the sharp juices do not burn his Pashtun eyes.
we love forever and this is
Seated beside the other illegal boys in their twenties I never bothered to learn on one of the salvaged each night before bed when they rise, of which
Pashto, Dari, even as they speak. Instead, past thoughts into a watery silence Although he wears no goggles, although he holds neither the sharp onion never burn his Pashtun eyes, which have seen borders and burqas to look away. In a house far wet-eyed, I watch
then breaks the eggs, one by one.
Two poems translated in English with the original in Russian Ivan de Monbrison
For fear of attracting wolves.
You left your skull on the table. A candle burns inside. You left your hand on the table, it still holds a glass of wine. You decorated the wall with your thought You go out, the sky is beautiful, but everyone you see is already dead.
Ode to a Buffalo Nickel Jarek Jarvis
the opposite side bearing that shaggy-bodied plains
4 Joy Waldinger
Zero Ramos Laforga i showed up on your front porch step, a stray begging for scraps the night where you opened the door, only to say,
to a word i said anyways i walked back to the liquor store, sat down on the curb,
i hoped for a possession, just so i could forget what it felt like for a second spoke of the dead, of tired gods asked to be put back to sleep, i want to go back to sleep across the road,
Sacrificial Pentagrams on Weekend News Alexander Russel
Left alone in brittle huts...
heart... Carriers of pigeonhole secrets ask us for directions and
EATING AT O’S Peter Mahoney
Fog down on both sides bones into air, dove tails,
tents, resting place for corrosive vanity and protection
River of Ghosts Suzanne O’Connell
even though we ignore it. The air never rests,
Dew on the grass
like an overhead river of ghosts. and take a deep breath.
HEMORRHAGE Ellis Elliott
of crashing consonants. Like sandpaper on the ears of your skin. Like a John Cage on piano strings, rubber ducks, and ice in a blender. Like bad tap water in a foreign country. Like carbonated bubbles up your nose. Like sand between your teeth. Like a surprise party gone wrong.
MY IMAGINARY CAT Meredith Davies Hadaway
invisible birds through the window.
jealous, a worrier. What can I
IN TRANSITION Peter Mahoney
We fall through the snow even at our loss of weight.
tickle down the thigh, looking for seed.
Blinds Leading the Blind David Goodrum
PETRICHOR Jeanne Rana
rain in a drought year
California hills turn tender green perhaps in the Sierras we will have water
for the thirsty cities
petrichor even the cat wants out
children dig in the hall closet for dusty galoshes
Wild Hearts Matthew Berg
of a soul fully assured of who they are.
than destructive, and I have yet to grasp such tendencies.
DISPLACEMENT Jim Kraus
sews stones to the sandy shoreline, the golden rising and sinking seascape. Shoreline of bones,
where water folds on itself,
devotions, your winding, churning, distant twisting cyclonic rotation pulsing.
on a table top of tiny dashes.
covered by sand that barely knows any place at all, carried always in the littoral drift of your wandering,
and garbage gyres.
through clouds are after all but thoughts, opening and closing lids of the breathing shoreline, your absence, the distance between us,
O shoreline Mother, sea-wash eroding now and always, your absence.
IS SKY SAD? Jeanne Rana Is sky sad
sky itself is polluted and the seas contain a continent of plastic such an ache looking out at the sparkling bay
as a single white pelican glides inches above the water
We can yet be saved. As long as sun rises there is hope. I console sky, slowly to the east
The Ghost Brandon Downing
THE GODDESS INCARNATES Nidhi Agrawal
I worship the slayer of illusions,
For Sale Laine Derr
a pop-up of porcelain dolls, eyes born
brought to a boil, like a cable-knit sweater, butter white, washed by hands swelling
pale, tallest building, deepest pool, drawn
and fade, a decaying god, a blood god, a forgotten epiphany leaping away.
Hannah Jane Weber a wild plastic bag
Freshly Squeezed Lea Abi Zeid Daou
Contributors Nidhi Agrawal has a background in communication design in media and entertainment spaces. She strongly feels that poetry is a deal of joy, she is the author of the poetry collection, . Her work has been published in , ty, , , , , and l, and elsewhere. She lives in Bihar, India. Chloe Bell is a writer based in Pittsburgh, PA. Her work has appeared in , , , and more. She has a Bachelor’s in English & Chemistry from Chatham University. Follow her on twitter: @chl0e_christina. Matthew Berg is a renaissance man: follower of Jesus, husband, father and working writer from the Midwest now living in the South. Jonathan Billet is a previously published poet, translator, and educator from Cambridge, Massachusetts. is exploring who she is through what she creates, “We are experiencing externally together, while at the same time experiencing internally alone. Both join together in the act of creating art; a physical expression of the amalgamation of the internal and external experience.” Annie-Marie Danizio has a BA in English Literature from Emmanuel College; a master’s in Art History and a master’s in Museum Studies from Harvard Extension School; and an MFA in Visual Arts from the Institute of Art and Design at New England College. A visual artist, her artwork was accepted in the SEE|ME Winter 2020– 2021 Exhibition at the Yard, Flatiron North, New York. Her writing
Her writing is published in and . Anne-Marie enjoys sculpting, painting, and practicing Reiki. Léa Abi Zeid Daou’s work is equal parts artistic expression and critical inquiry. She is a human rights scholar and practitioner. She approaches the narrative through various realms: the artistic, the er, photographer, and writer, she seeks to phenomenologically and stories left behind. Her short story “Illusions of Dripping” was published in the creative writing journal , and she directed and wrote the award-winning documentary short . Laine Derr holds an MFA from Northern Arizona University and has published interviews with Carl Phillips, Ross Gay, Ted Kooser, and Robert Pinsky. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming from , , , ly, , and elsewhere. Ria Dhingra is a Sophomore at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and is studying both English Literature and Philosophy. Her work has been recognized by her University as she was the recipient of the Mackaman Undergraduate Writer’s Award in 2021. Her work appears in , , and is forthcoming in . Ria is a lover of stories,
Ron L. Dowell holds two Master’s degrees from California State University Long Beach. In June 2017, he received the UCLA , , , , , , , and . He’s a 2018 PEN America Emerging Voices Fellow. Visit him at crookedoutofcompton.com
Brandon Downing’s collections of poetry include on (2002), , ) and . In 2007 he released a feature-length collection of short dig, while a monograph of his literary collages from 1996 to 2008, , was published by in 2010. He’s recently completed an inaccurate, sixteen-book translation of . Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, he’s now based in New York’s Hudson Valley, and completely freaked out like everybody else. received a bachelor’s degree in English from Rhodes College and is currently enrolled in the MFA program of Queens University. For more than thirty years, she taught dance and owned her own dance studio. She also has studied and taught yoga for the past ten years. Mary Warren Foulk has been published in , Ca, , ( ), , , , , , and among other publications. Her work also has appeared in ( ) and ( ). Her chapbook, , is forthcoming from (2021). Mary has attended several writing workshops and conferences, including The Writers Studio and AWP events. She recently won the “Teach! Write! Play!” fellowship to the Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing and her poem “The Inventory of Fumbling” at Vermont College of Fine Arts, Mary lives in western Massachusetts with her wife and two children. She is an educator, writer, and activist. Best of the Net nominee, Rich Glinnen, enjoys bowling, and eating his daughter’s cheeks at his home in Bayside, NY. His work can be read in various print and online journals, as well as on his Tumblr
and Instagram pages. His wife calls him Ho-ho. David A. Goodrum lives in Corvallis, Oregon. His photography has been juried into many art festivals in cities such as St. Louis Missouri, Columbus and Cincinnati Ohio, Ann Arbor Michigan, Bloomington and Indianapolis Indiana, and Madison Wisconsin. His intent is to capture images that might instill in others - as they do for him as he makes them - a sense of calm and tranquility. He hopes to hectic daily events and into a place that delights in an intimate view of the world. Additional work can be viewed at www.davidgoodrum.com. Colton Green teaches high school in the Bronx. MA in teaching English, Columbia University and M.F.A. in Writing, Lindenwood , and
worked in a wide variety of industries, including rent-to-own, insurance, and mining, and is currently in county government in West Virginia. He enjoys history, sports analytics, tennis and chess. He calls his cat Moose because Bullwinkle would be a mouthful. He uses the pen name J. Gunter Brett. has three published collections of poetry—including , winner of the 2015 Delmarva Book Prize for Creative Writing. Her work has also appeared in , , , , , , , and Valpara, among other journals. Hadaway has received fellowships from the Virginia Center for Creative Arts and from the Maryland State Arts Council and six Pushcart nominations.
Poetry at Western Kentucky University. They lived and worked in Beijing for three years before returning to the US to continue their studies. lives in Brecksville, Ohio, a suburb of Cleveland, with her husband, Carl, and their two daughters, Mallory and Samantha, along with their two dogs, Shadow and Reggie. She holds a BA in English from Baldwin-Wallace University and a MA in English from Cleveland State University, and she was a public high school English teacher for sixteen years. She is currently a working literary artist at Heights Arts, in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Jean Kane’s work has appeared in numerous publications, including , , , I , , , and . Her book of poems, , was published by in 2014. She is a recipient of the Otis Nebula First Book Award. ’ poems have been published or are forthcoming in , , ,V and . He won a Myrtle Clark Creative Writing Award. Currently, he is Professor of English at Chaminade University of Honolulu, where he also edits . is a Filipino gay trans musician, writer, & artist from the San Francisco Bay Area. His poetry is surrealist & emotionally desperate, pulling inspiration from poets such as Richard Siken, Charles Bukowski, & Neil Hilborn. writes and draws for children and young adults. He has recent work with seven-year-old Liu Chang in T nal. His art is collected by and he is the featured artist in the inaugural issue of . Additional work and credits on Instagram @latimer.jim
spent decades balancing a career in public relations, raising a family, and pursuing her love of writing poetry. . Her latest passion is working with shelter dogs. She splits her time living in Vashon and Spokane, Washington. For more information, visit www.yvonnehigginsleach.com Kalani Leblanc was born and raised in South Florida and is currently attending Palm Beach Atlantic University to study history. She reviews lemonade on Instagram and songs on . was born in the Philippines and spent their early childhood there before moving to Bethesda, Maryland. They are now a practicing physician in Boston. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in magazine, , , , , , , , , and others. Joe Lugara has been an easel painter for decades, making lyrical abstractions. Six years ago, they began producing photographs and digital paintings. Their work in that medium debuted in 2018 in a solo exhibition at the Noyes Museum of Art in their home state of New Jersey and will appear there again this October. Margaret Marcum is a third-year student in the MFA program in creative writing at Florida Atlantic University. Her literary interests include ecofeminism and healing the collective through personal narrative. Her poems have appeared in , , , , and , and 2021 Rash Award in Poetry. She lives in Delray Beach with her two cats, Angel and Alice. Fred McGavran is a graduate of Kenyon College and Harvard
After retiring from law, he was ordained a deacon in the Diocese of Southern Ohio, where he serves as Assistant Chaplain with Episcopal Retirement Services. published , his award winning collection of short stories in 2009 with a reprint in 2010, and published , his second collection, in April 2017. For more information, please go to www.fredmcgavran.com
is a poet and artist living in Paris born in 1969. Peter Money’s most recent book is the novel , which was published in Dublin, Ireland ( ). His poems and articles have appeared in , , , , and many others, including
Suzanne O’Connell’s recently published work can be found in , , , , , , and others. She was awarded second place in the 2019 Poetry Super Highway poetry contest. O’Connell was also nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and received Honorable Mention in the Steve Kowit Poetry Prize, 2019.
- French), designer and horticulturist. Their life mission is to transmit the passion of the cultural and environmental heritage through arts, lifestyle and sharing of knowledge. They imagine themself becoming an archaeologist in their next life to study the 20th century! Jeanne Rana has been published in , , , , , and . She received a Poets & Writers grant for her performance and workshop in 2019
for the Plumas Arts Council in Quincy, CA. jumped into creative pursuits in 2015 after a rewarding career in public health research. With graduate degree from
continents, including , , nal, , , , , , , , , , and . Jim and his wife—parents of two health professionals city and mountains. is a journalist with a degree in graphic design. Originally from Ukraine, he’s lived in the United States for over 15 years. He’s been writing poetry for a very long time; it’s sort of like gardening but with words. Hart Crane, Walt Whitman, Gregory Corso, Diane di Prima, Bob Kaufman, Jack Kerouac, Adrienne Rich, Sylvia Plath, and Lou Reed are among many of his creative empathy is everything. Virginia Schnurr’s poetry has been published in , , , , , , , and , among others. She is a trained children’s librarian, and ran the literary magazine at a Quaker boarding school, helping to develop and preserve the Quaker collection as librarian. Eva-Maria Sher was born in Germany at the end of WWII, she was already writing poems as a child. At seventeen, she emigrated to the United States, studied literature, taught, raised three children, and have in the past ten years rediscovered her passion for writing. Kalina Smith
er. They have previously been published in
Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in , , , , , and other journals. Edward is also a published poet. is a freshman at the University of San Francisco, studying Business Management. Barbara Tramonte is a poet with poems, essays, and stories published in literary journals and anthologies. She worked as a professor in the school for graduate studies at SUNY Empire State College for many years and has worked as a poet-in-the-schools in New York City for a decade. Judy Wachler has been published in . She received a BA in French from MacMurray College, earned her MA in French Literature from the University of Michigan, and is currently enrolled in an MFA program in writing at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Judy has taught English to Arabic speakers and expository writing at the high school level as well as English and French literature. Margaret Wagner is a writer, dancer, and artist who has won three Travelers’ Tales Solas Awards for Best Travel Writing. She graduated with a BA in American Studies from Mount Holyoke College. Her work has been published in , , I-70 , , , and . J. Eliza Wall maker, and educator from Philadelphia. Her work explores family dynamics, the human condition, nostalgia, and reconnection to nature. She has been published in , ,
, and curator for
and is a volunteer and published on Amazon. Recently, she has turned her
ed for the Short to the Point ISFF AWARDS (2020). ’s poetry has been published in , , , and , among others. She is also a recipient of the Dylan Thomas American Poet Prize. Hannah Jane is a children’s librarian and tennis enthusiast. She lives with her husband and their golden retrievers. is a self-taught folk artist residing in Keavy, Kentucky. She uses her experiences from growing up in rural South-Eastern Kentucky, teaching special education classes, and living with obsessive compulsive disorder to inspire her unique works of art. Hanna Wright uses bold lines and bright colors to al expressions. Hanna was born in Barbourville, Kenucky on April 15th, 1993. Hanna graduated from the University of the Cumberlands in 2015 with degrees in Special Education Behavioral Disabilities and Elementary Education. Hanna Wright’s mamaw, Geraldine Scalf, has had a great impact on Hanna’s art career and works as fellow folk artist residing in Barbourville, Kentucky. Hanna was adopted at the age of 4 and moved from Barbourville to Keavy, Kentucky. She now teaches special education in the Laurel County School District and spends most of her free time creating unique works of art on paper, canvas, wood, and reclaimed scrap materials. Hanna most enjoys drawing her expressive “Starmen” and Hanna Wright’s collection of art contains over 2000 works of art on paper and over 400 paintings of all sizes. Hanna’s artwork has been gaining popularity on the internet since 2015 and her artwork
has been sought after by art galleries on a global scale. Hanna has had opportunities to display her artwork in galleries from Australia to New Mexico. K.A. Wright earned a BA degree in English Writing and an MFA degree in Creative Writing. She received an Honorable Mention in the Children’s Fiction Category from Writer’s Digest, the International Library of Poetry “Editor’s Choice Award” for outstanding achievement in poetry, and has published poetry in . Yellowdog grew up during the Cold War and as a child was fascinated by images of the Berlin Wall covered with the outrage of the inhabitants of that divided city. They chase those images in use those images to create art. They are fascinated by the punk,
tention other than individual expression––there is no plan to create these mosaics of images––they organically evolve. The continuum of art, as stencils fade and stickers tear and are replaced by new images and words, is the opposite of static art forms. They like that it is public art both in the sense of it being in the public domain created by a community whose connection is the desire to make a mark on a particular space.”