Lucifer Harps on Beauty by Brad Crenshaw As we know, the world is fucking magical.Let’s say one night cominghome late the way it’s always beenafter a gig playing bass, standupbass, which itself is a talent worthhaving even before the literarycritic in his beers tipped...
If I Drink the Violets, by Ronda Piszk Broatch you must hold the glass, in case I become a fever of absence. In my old version of creation, our cosmos was birthed by another cosmos. Which makes me fortunate, otherwise Johnny Rotten would never have let me on...
Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother, Earth by Donna Miscolta A is for alone. Leave me alone, the girl demands. Don’t let me be alone, she demands louder. The mother thinks how much easier the first is. But these are not either/or propositions, not stand-alone options....
The Cult of Yakushima Isla by Matthew Baker In the shimmering subtropical waters far south of the mainland archipelago lies the island of Yakushima, a mountainous granite landmass forested with ancient cedars that have stood for thousands of years, ringed by a...
Past the Farallones by Michael Thériault How, Sean? thought Danilo; how would Sean care? The others, too, appeared surprised. Sean had always seemed the hardest of them, even though each of them who gathered on weekday mornings for coffee–except Danilo–had decades of...
