This is my earliest memory. I was twenty-nine. The last waterslide park in northern California was closing at the end of the summer, and I felt I owed it to my childhood to take one last run. I...
Richard Shannon heart deep in hunger an aged leopard, haunted by the fear it sowed in its prey,sun weary, reclines on the river’s edge moonlight wreathes his heart with the golden image...
Mary Anna Dunn My heels are strapped in etherized stirrupsand my feelings float around —while a dilated moon brings the high tidecrashing to shore andback out again, I hear scissors cut...
From Issue 36.1 Danielle Evans Eggs. They wanted eggs, and their requests came trickling in daily in ten-point type, through the want ads of the campus paper. Five, ten, fifteen thousand you could...
From Issue 21.1 Justin Cronin The morning he was scheduled to appear in bankruptcy court, Frank O’Neil ate three eggs for breakfast, read the Times and Globe, drank two cups of coffee, helped his...
Robert Bausch “…Anything makes me laugh, I misbehaved once at a funeral.” –Charles Lamb He could hear the people in the church praying. So many voices carried a long way and he could...
From Issue 39.2 Janann Dawkins The chlorophyll remains in leaf: the limbsretain their hair: the trees do not believethe sun will set on them. They think the filmof heat is normal—that it will...
From Issue 1.1 (Spring 1972) Jim Everhard In the darkness the moon opensand there is nothing but lightin the twists of its mind,the unthought of dreamsof dead men bending back toward the...
From Issue 7.3 Ed Lynskey Call me a gravedigger.By night I shovel themoist moments awaytill the empty depthcan hold my heart, my injured heart.Still she lies like a smirking shadowin the bottom of...
From Issue 29.2 Marilyn F. Moriarty The only excess on Inishmore was in the people — in their talking, in their music — and last night what music there was with noisy old ballads, raucous...
