Connect
In Print
Fortieth Anniversary Issue
Spring 2021
Edited by Bradford Morrow
Online
October 27, 2021
I stretch into
a shape. Do as I’m told
in plastics. Each mold
is a house
is an ocean but
only now do I know
his death was never some renewable
substance. The whale sank away––
out of contact ...
October 20, 2021
Launch
codes, we stripped species,
our insecure
hands of gloves
to crack the test to our capitalizable
future. Pray
for the multiverse I’m working on
at midnight.
October 13, 2021
Forgive us. We were waiting
here, in the thickening ice. We worked a long time. Now
we try to give what we found, a little basket
hiding behind each back, full of the young shoots.
They are so green. Mercifully green. We say so. Yes,
they are alive, we say. We, too. We are still sick.
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