Monarchs are migrating once more, and as usual hang in great clusters of orange and black in the same groves their insect ancestors flapped through—purposeful dry leaves on a gusty day, the air a frenzy of handfuls tossed and lifted and carried as colorful and fleeting as childhood memories; my grandmother’s face is a tree…
Tag: 2018 issue
I walk through a snowy wood
I walk through a snowy wood in search of ambition. Let’s say ambition looks like a gold swan. Let’s say it radiates a perceptible vitality and constantly twinkles. Ice crunches beneath me. My boots are soaked through, feet freezing. The voice of a distant master commands me to endure the harshness of my search which,…
Marie Sklodowska-Curie translates poems about polonium
Scott Ferry helps to heal our Veterans as a RN. His daughter is a purple belt and his wife is a doctor, so he is well protected. Current work can be found in Bitter Oleander, Cobalt, Chaleur, and Scryptic. Photograph by Alex Iby.
[N]o matter what [is] involved]
Devon Wootten is a faculty member at Whitman College. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Best American Experimental Writing, Fence, LIT, Aufgabe, and Colorado Review, among others. A former resident of Yaddo and Anderson Ranch, he holds an MFA from the University of Montana and a PhD from the University of Iowa. He lives with his wife among…
The Misanthropist
Not that he minded coming in out of the rain, shaking water from his boots in the mud room, placing them side by side with the other pairs of slick rubbers, umbrellas left open, set like enormous flower petals upon an oriental rug dirty with its own versions of flowers. Nor did he mind the…
Cascade Mall Shooting September 23, 2016
1. The day before my son was born my mom, and I took my daughter to the museum for kids. The one in the mall, with the semi-truck busting through the window, and the box of sand underground. 2. I walked the halls of that mall, empty and foreign as my body is now, void…
Distance
I stand beside the scarecrow and look where he looks, across the feathered gold and green, clump of trees, a single barn, a few dark lines where roads divide the fields. Clouds have crossed entire states to get here, their shadows in tow. As far as we can see is not that far, the scarecrow…
