Contributors

Lisa Donovan
Contributor History

Biography
Lisa Donovan lives in Edgewater, CO. Her first book, Red of Split Water, a burial rite, was a Kelsey Street Press FIRSTS! finalist and a Noemi Poetry Prize semifinalist and will be published by Trembling Pillow Press in 2016. Her work can also be found at Kelsey St. Press Blog, E-ratio, Glitter Pony, Denver Quarterly, Jacket Magazine, Paul Revere’s Horse, and Interrupture.

Connect

e-mail
Submissions

In Print

Vol. 76
Fortieth Anniversary Issue
Spring 2021
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

July 28, 2021
Sanjay’s stepmother enters the dining room and
his monitoring bracelet records a flutter in his pulse.
Dr. Cameron shows the assistant how he applies
an electrode to the surface of the patient’s brain.
She sees a mountain blow away like it’s sand.
July 21, 2021
“Well, technically batshit,” I’d tell him, and I’d remind him that, seeing as we were trapped in this cave—“Cave?” he’d say, and I’d say, “Yeah, the cave we’re recovering from eye surgery in,” and he’d say, “Oh right”—and that seeing as we’d be thus—“pardon the expression,” I’d say—interred for at least as long as it took to recover, that the cave would be, for all intents and purposes, what we’d have to mean, from here on out, by the word world; and thus bats, who were the only creatures still flitting in and out of the cave’s narrow apertures and thereby participating in the larger ecosystem and importing to an otherwise inhospitable environment the most basic elements needed to sustain life, their excretions would need to be, for the foreseeable future, what we’d have to mean when we’d say sun.
July 14, 2021
And all manner of head swerves.
Three people flew past me, but did not see.
It’s not even clear what happens to the chicken on the bobsled.
 
Trails . . . that slither with their cake.
Will you have more?
advertisement