Online Exclusives

12.04.97
Green Angel
After the complete failure of the tall motors used to shift the wind toward the ocean, the village became isolated from the others that had been planted along the continent’s jagged black shores. [...]
11.30.97
The Big R
Hourglass figure
receiving threats [...]
11.18.97
Gold Carp Jack Fruit Mirrors
You want, simply, to stop breathing and hear.
Yesterday was a day just like tomorrow. [...]
10.29.97
Darkness and Light
There is a not-so-funny story my aunt Josephine used to like to tell: “When you were born, your mother thought you were so ugly that as soon as she brought you home she shut you in the closet.” [...]
10.21.97
Barcelona
What does the poem erupt?
                                          Nothing. [...]
10.15.97
From Uproar in Heaven
by Fred Ho
Nothing in the world is impossible
If you are of sincere will. [...]
08.21.97
From Thaumatrope
Cantatrice of redglass
as a mirror in flowers
as bloodstone hangs fissuring suns
as a gaze suffers the light inviolate— [...]
08.21.97
From Mermaid’s Purse
It was never mentioned why the princess was placed upon the top of the

glass mountain, or how she might descend. [...]
07.30.97
Three Poems
The handwriting
is cramped and hard to read.
The story familiar, someone in unknown territory. [...]
06.09.97
Cravings 
Emmy Hitler ate lamp shades in her third trimester. [...]
06.09.97
Must We Stoop for Violets in the Hedge?
Walking down the street with it, I studied its amazing contours in shadow. The hair loomed above me, spiny and monstrous.  [...]
06.09.97
The Intransigent Penetration of a Metaphor: A Post-Interview Encounter with Robert Coover
A writer needs isolation, a cell of his own, that’s obvious, but distance can also help. It has a way of freeing the imagination, stirring memory.  [...]
06.06.97
The Manuscript
by Severo Sarduy
translated by Esther Allen
He had spent the entire night smoking twisted and intoxicating cigars that filled the room with a bluish, sickly sweet smoke.  [...]
06.06.97
Winter Visits against His Cell 
I used to live in an office, or rather, there used to be an office where I live.  People used to come here and rent things, places to put their extras, places to store the artifacts they were trying to forget.  [...]

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In Print

Vol. 73
Earth Elegies
Fall 2019
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

January 21, 2020
I have taken a blow to the head.

     Not one blow. Many blows. But one was worse than the others.

     And my larynx is not my own. My heart isn’t either. But I have a phantom larynx and a phantom heart.
January 14, 2020
We found the laptop in Cressey’s round room. It was black, thin, light as wood, and belonged to Dr. Marcus, the man who came on to me once, the one who smokes dope in the eaves, the philologist or psychologist. I can’t get these “terms” straight in my head anymore, what with these drugs they feed us. The afternoon pills, especially.
January 7, 2020
We turn the floodlights on the actors, extras in one of the world’s great short stories, surprising them mid-escapade, nocturnal animals caught playing dress up with our clothing, our fanciest possessions. Pearl choker on a possum, suit jacket on a raccoon. A skunk, a lynx, two tubby foxes moonlighting as twin nephews or as young men dating our daughters.
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Housing Works Bookstore Cafe & Bar Celebrates the New Earth Elegies Issue
Thursday, January 30, 2020
7:00 pm – 8:00 pm
Housing Works Bookstore Cafe & Bar, 126 Crosby St., New York, NY 10012