Dream of Lust

Louise Glück

From The Kenyon Review, New Series, Winter 2001, Vol. XXIII, No. 1 After one of those nights, a day: the mind dutiful, waking, putting on its slippers, and the spirit…

Kepler’s Snowflake

Amit Majmudar

The Six-Cornered Snowflake. By Johannes Kepler (Author), Jacques Bromberg (Translator), and Guillermo Bleichmar (Foreword). Paul Dry Books: Philadelphia, PA, 2011. 115 pages. $12.00. Johannes Kepler (1571–1630) wrote some of the…

On Alan Heathcock’s Volt

Marie-Helene Bertino

Graywolf Press: Minneapolis, MN, 2011. 208 pages. $15.00. The stories in Alan Heathcock’s debut collection are set in Krafton, a fictional, god-fearing town somewhere in the American West. The inhabitants…

weekend-readsThe Soldier on Routine

Katy Didden

We are living with the young Christ      in the Green Zone. Even we who are not He suffer hands tugging our hems, though our minds select the bodies      we see.…

Electric Chair

Mark Conway

Sirloin chugs toward my father’s heart as he hums out in the garden, seated on his easy chair, rods throb in the cataracts that guard his eyes; he sits on…

Rhymes with Poetess

Lesley Wheeler

A talented professor of ethnic American literatures had recently left my university, the Victorian Gothic enclave where I pursued a doctorate in the early nineties. Gossipers blamed her departure on…

Whole Life

Vojislav Pejović

It was the time before the tourists and the yachts, before there was tap water and asphalt road. The power wasn’t on every day, either. In those days, the night…

Reunion

Kelly Luce

Just imagine: a place where everything you’ve ever lost is for sale. I came upon it by accident. Over the course of that interminable weekend after Jun died, Asian lady…

Use Everything in Your Arsenal

Kelly Fordon

All of the neighborhood kids were converged in our backyard playing shark attack when we heard a whooping Gladiator cry. “Yah! Yah! Yah!” We couldn’t see who was screaming, but…

The Chainsaw Soiree

Nickolas Butler

They squatted in an abandoned Pentecostal church high on the bluffs over a river and when the rain or snow was heavy the roof leaked and the church was loud…

Hope is the thing with

Martha Silano

an important message, a pressing urgency I reckon Hope’s entitled to. Hope says Hello, my dear, and it goes from there: how are you, hope you’re well, bit hot over…

Beauty Spot

Will Schutt

Those hills, maybe, at the bookends of summer. Green bench in a shade, the Georgica jetty, magnificent ocean rocks we hiked between. California wildflowers. Some views of Grenoble going up…

A Vocation

Siobhan Phillips

A human can be so afraid the liver fails, a guest researcher tells me. I’m impressed. His accent tests a laugh-line: You are yellow, truly. Yes. . . . We…

Ode to the Workshop Poem

Maureen Morehead

little blue shoes like birds in a mulberry. big big alligator your face on a billboard. but the biggest alligator is older than glaciers, than little blue shoes far far…

Anniversary at the Evening Café

Susanna J. Mishler

Cups of coffee steamed in our hands. The courtyard purpled under vines. On her index finger, suddenly, an emerald mayfly—wings veined,           abdomen swooped up. Mayflies live one day and expire.…

weekend-readsThe Art of Heaven

Rodney Jones

In the middle of my life I came to a dark wood, the smell of barbecue, kids running in the yards. Not deep depression. The nice Hell of suburbs. Speed…

Anatomy

Elizabeth Wade

You were not there in biology class on the day we learned pithing, on the day the teacher demonstrated how to slide an instrument into the base of a frog’s…

weekend-readsLife Story

Joseph Scapellato

A man lives with a woman he loves enough to live with, but not enough to marry and not enough for kids. He knows he could love others enough to…

On Lindsay Hunter’s Daddy’s

Aimee Pokwatka

Featherproof Books: Chicago, IL, 2010. 340 pages. $14.95. In Daddy’s, Lindsay Hunter’s debut collection of microfiction, there is a story about a woman who uses her dog’s shock collar to…

Belfast

Maureen McLane

Your velvet hills came to me last night in the pool how they hugged the fraught city the pubs filled and buzzing the Europa unbombed now for years. Your political…

The Dog-Killer of Khartoum

Jennifer MacKenzie

And so the figure of the dog-killer of Khartoum enters the conversation. With a checkered scarf wrapped around his head and carrying a shotgun, he appears unannounced on the embassy…

Andalusian Wind

Sharon Dolin

Wind that roughens up the palms and the cypresses and the Esparto grass. And me. • • The only still thing: roadside cactus. And the one gray mare that stands…

Incredulity of Thomas

Darin Ciccotelli

Don’t hamper me with close inspection, the silt and shallow water in your eyes. Your eyes, the movement of beetles. Obsess on hay. Place on me your solitary, blind hands—…

On Lisa Robertson’s R’s Boat

Hannah Brooks-Motl

University of California Press: Berkeley, CA, 2010. 96 pages. $19.95. Over eight books and dozens of chapbooks, as well as pamphlets, reissues, and collaborations, Lisa Robertson has quietly but surely…

Marilyn Monroe’s Feet

Marcia Aldrich

“She was thinking that, after all, feet are the most important part of the whole person; women, she said to herself, have been loved for their feet alone.” —Virginia Woolf,…

Echoes

Kristen Cosby

And then there is the voice of the sand itself—the quick sharp sibilance of a gust of sand blown over a dune created by a sudden shift of the breeze,…

The Lamp at the Turning

E. Lily Yu

For ten years the streetlamp on the corner of Cooyong and Boolee kept vigil with the other lamps along the road. They were surrogate moons for an age when the…

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