Table of Contents
Sinyala
The Audacity of Bubble-Bursting
Leaving Home–The Day of Judgment
A summer job working in a greeting card factory turns into a nightmare.
Brown-Rice-Onions-Ketchup-Optional
An Owner’s Manual for a Misused Car
"How many mice does it take to screw in a light bulb?"
Read a Wikipedia article about tracing A-Z with your tongue…
He held the opinion that Hitler was a fashion innovator.
Something was stirring, demanding her attention.
An Interview with Kathryn Mockler and David Poolman
Rob Matthews ‘Kindred’ Drawings
I Get on my Bike to go Look at Art in Galleries
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Table of Contents
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My father walks through the scrub, a shortcut, to get to Walmart
where he meets up with his friends for coffee on Friday afternoons.
He says teenagers are always hanging around back there, barbequing
something. I’m assuming my father has never smelled pot
and that’s what he’s smelling now, so I say, Dad, stick to the streets,
because I am afraid for him, even though these kids
are probably mellow from weed.
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Bar Napkin Sonnet #7
The face I’m seeing in the bar’s back mirror
looks tired and just my age, I hate to say,
as if I need a sign that’s any clearer
I been on the floor lookin’ for a chair
to get more sleep and drink much less ouzo.
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Translated from the Greek by Shorsha Sullivan
Table of Contents
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Uncle
Surrounded by the Iron Curtain, all things faded faster:
suits slicked at the elbows and especially the knees,
shoes scuffed as though from constant kicking.
You, too, magician of my childhood,
conjuring something from nothing
in the single bare bulb
kitchen-made-do-for-darkroom,
lightened to a negative of yourself -
pale blue pajamas and thin long-fingered hands
folded on the white sheet,
all around you the lush blooms, the industrious Soviet summer.
Rehearsal Night
My mother is all smells and sounds of waiting,
the click click click of distinctly confident
heels in the dark hallway,
the anticipated familiar mix of perfume and cigarette smoke
when I reach for her hand at the crosswalk,
the poised T-shape of them on the small stage
as her partner lifts her up,
and I am in the corner with pencils and a coloring book
forgetting what I’ve been told,
pressing down too hard on the paper.
After She Left for Spain
I woke to find a pomegranate on my doorstep.
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Table of Contents
The Possibility of Being Who You Are
If it could swallow you whole, it would.
They were all such happy Buddhas.
It was an offer of truce and I took it.
Being a good driver is all in the timing.
Or how my son found wisdom, without reading Freud or Greek mythology
Profile: Issue 13
Fiction: Issue 18
Fiction: Issue 19