Page 12 from Issue 101 TriQuarterly Shelling Beans Outside Pollenca Dying to be devoured, the beans plunge from the pod to the pot, whole generations linked in every long slim creamy-yellow scarlet-splotched canoe. God made them to be eaten— built their h ...

Page 14 from Issue 101 TriQuarterly of flesh or brine or the pulsing that flickers among weed and rock, hut the swimmers flung it back and back into the long deep life it hated now, until it drifted, staggered, clambered onto a hot blank foreign solid aga ...

Page 16 from Issue 101 TriQuarterly He would sit in his oak-and-leather desk chair or lie back on his worn recliner, brooding, searching, writing, discarding. He had for fifty years not reflected much about his very early past, believing always that he co ...

Page 25 from Issue 101 TriQuarterly A wedge of yellow light from their room spilled onto the dim second-floor hallway. He entered the room, set down the bags. She opened her eyes. "Benjamin." An effort, her whisper. "My dear,&am ...

Page 34 from Issue 101 TriQuarterly The sky was barely lit when he entered the town. Street lights shone upon the debris-strewn wet roads. When he turned into his driveway he was momentarily startled, certain he had erred: this was not his home. Jagged fr ...