22 further re-reads:
re /visited poems & stories
clearly, the road will bend
as all turns do
how a beautiful woman laughs...
a prickofthespindle poem by Stephanie Valente
Match Dot Com
He stroked her hair as she lay next to him.
The sheets pulled from the north and south, gathered about them like a large loincloth.
a Pitkin Review short story by Ted Chiles
You know me well
strolling streets to be with people without
being with people. You ask for one dollar. One dollar.
a Wicked Alice poem by Chella Courington
Brave New World
I don't have much time. This is what's happening. The sky is pouring hard-rain through the swiss cheese-holes in my roof...
an Titular Journal story by Ben Spivey
The old men cast their shadows on the street.
In faded parkas, dazed by sun or gin,
they wear cast-off Nikes, large upon their feet...
a Marylhurst Review poem by Cathy McGuire
I’m leaving you today,
because you have no suggestion box.
Because a bride is the only one told to wear white
a decomP poem by Carol Lynn Grellas
An eye for an eye, in the circle on the sand,
my dreams like the waves cast away,
the house I built, the bricks I laid, the stones I collected.
Divine Revolution poem by Jane Chakravarthy
That Greyhound Station
I am interviewing,
one of her front teeth
crosses over another
a Chantarelle's Notebook poem by Donal Mahoney,
previously published in New City Magazine, March 1969
And it still goes on
This time it happened in the car.
an Indelible Kitchen poem by Tabitha Dial
The first of my notes read I'M IN A STATE OF DISBELIEF. I left this one on top of a counter at a place where many of the thousands of people who worked in the same building as I did went to get their coffees and pastries in the morning.
a Jerry Jazz Musician story by Brian Greene
dreams of color 1997-2008
i dream of that thing
that swims under the carpet
and the broken aquarium...
a The poem by Mercedes Yardley
Kandinsky's circles and Judd's cubes in the K20
The sign of the circle, it is the clearest mark of the fourth dimension," the audio guide explains in a neutral voice.
a Mississippi Review essay by Dorothee Lang
Red Island Rocks
There I was in my element
Here I lie where the waves
lick the shore, lapping
out a lapis lazuli lullaby
a Pandora's Collective poem by Mary Duffy
Chewing on the (War) Bullet
It's like a hole in my throat,
this lack of languages,
burning further down fraying vocal cords...
a Kaleidoscope poem by Katie Hoffmann
There is an order to where things do or do not overlap. My boyfriend Victor works at Applebee's. He also sells weed. Sometimes, when he owes people money, he'll pay them with stolen Applebee's gift certificates..."
a Pindeldyboz story by Roxane Gay
"Four dozen chocolate cookies
baked in sour mood
built on the day of unknown quarrels"
a Niederngasse poem by Michelle V. Lohnes
Heather's Dad had once fucked David Bowie which was weird because in those days, said Heather's Mom, he looked just like him. Back in the Sixties, just about any kid could make it with a celebrity" and I," Heather said, "have to settle for you."
an In Posse Review story by Diane Lefer
"Do you not understand this woman is your own gender?" Pegeen's voice rose at her eighteen-year-old granddaughter over from England, as she drew her granddaughter's face close to hers, when they were alone, after the dinner, repeating her earlier words.
a Dublin Quarterly story by Lynn Strongin
Lately, I paint my fingernails
and think of nineteen-year-old Louie,
a prodigy design engineer, whistling
at the coffee machine...
a Boston Literary poem by Margot Brown
As I was struggling to put together Lieberman's book, I felt I was dissecting the body of Lieberman; at the same time, in “perfecting” his book, I felt I was breathing life into him. And then there was Victoria to add to my oxymoronization–
Sylvan Echo story by Larry Lefkowitz
I can describe for you
the pier where
an all things girl poem by Cathrine Lodoen
The Garment Distict
Saturday, nearly the whole of Spadina Road
closed for the Sabbath observance.
I stand in front of the painted brick building
a GoodGoshAlmighty poem by Bonnie Nish