Issue 145

Winter & Spring 2014

Image from War Movie

Poetry Beth Bachmann Poetry Beth Bachmann

shell

Fingers in the mouth make mud

into a poultice to warm the dead. Only water moving fighter slow can’t get out til

something goes in, above and below meeting at ice or lotus or iris. Look at me

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Poetry Tara Hart Poetry Tara Hart

pine

When I was eight, the sweet beast of my body would

wake in a moment to beautiful boathouse smells

of batshit, warmed tar, drops of oily gas, beer

cans on vinyl cushions; it would snap

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Poetry Eugene Gloria Poetry Eugene Gloria

The Holler

I’m opening up & then shutting down

Why this compulsion to tell everyone

when I should keep it zipped

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Poetry Becka Mara McKay Poetry Becka Mara McKay

Hypnagogic (Hands)

They fly like gulls to the rose of your throat

a surface made more tender by the flight

of your fingers in the oh no of gestures

to the valley of come quickly at the notch

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Poetry Jennifer Raha Poetry Jennifer Raha

Directive

You want to stop the car.

To not proceed any further

into the place you have been

and the place you continue to go.

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Poetry Timothy Liu Poetry Timothy Liu

Cherish

He puts his mouth on me even if

it means ruin. He says we can't

do it in his house or bed, his wife

will know, then shoves my hand

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Poetry Amy Woolard Poetry Amy Woolard

While Away

When the satellite signal berserks, the conversations

Begin. Today’s devotional: Windex scattershot, ecstatic

Gasp of the punctured cat food tin. It seems everything

Within earshot has something to say. The linoleum unpeels

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Poetry Amy Woolard Poetry Amy Woolard

Things Go South

Always trust a red door

On a black Camaro, thighs

Sticking to the vinyl in the June

Sun, pinking up the place.

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