Online Exclusives

12.01.02
Baba Ganesh, Ubiquitous Authority (from the Books of Ubar)
We divide the rectangular glass terrarium diagonally across the bottom, into triangular halves of clay and sand. [...]
10.08.02
Drafts, Updrafts, and the Physiognomy of Air
This might have been a story about Vincent van Gogh. Might have been, I say, because most of it takes place within that very asylum where the “Mad Dutchman”—as he was remembered by the local population until recently—spent the last full year of his life. [...]
09.08.02
Certain Hazards of Living without the Assumption of Timing
Being and changing are almost one and the same thing
Not changing and not coming into the crisis is almost one and the same thing with not living
Being and living are not the same [...]
08.30.02
Three Poems
    Aunt sleeps on, neglecting our selves; her rustic
devils furnish us with sorrow. [...]
08.23.02
Two Stories
“I completely forgot” is twice as true as “I don’t remember that.” “It hurts” is as often untrue as “I don’t know.” Opinions are less often lies than facts. [...]
08.16.02
The American Green Machine
Good morning, CLARENCE T. FORDHAM, please do not be alarmed, because I can imagine what you are contemplating right now as you struggle to attain consciousness and the answer is no [...]
08.09.02
Three Poems
Silent trees are failure and fault

Half the creatures come when called, half tilt away [...]
06.28.02
From Dear Laird Hunt, Author of The Impossibly
Cold has descended on the county. By week’s end, we expect a hard frost.  [...]
06.05.02
Shelburne Falls
A hand in a crevice, the tongue at rest in the mouth,
and also,
the pressure of one body against another: summer, waxed and honeyed. [...]
05.30.02
All Winter Long the Girls Smoked Tobacco Leaves
Up in the hills the talk was of the men all disappeared and presumed dead. [...]
04.10.02
DAU AL SET
If only we could plunder rumors kept well-guarded.

But are you there and are we troubling you?

The stars suffused with aspects no one can discern. [...]
04.03.02
Three Poems
Song after a song after story
one of the stories which end in stumps or falsely
which are made up of poses of positions and transpositions
of positions [...]
03.19.02
The Sound Gun
We are dragging it by hand now. The engine gave out days ago in a ravine two kilometers south of the parallel. [...]
03.01.02
Vague Swimmers
Thank you for saying pathos instead of pathetic, keeping us the same size as before. [...]
01.19.02
Disintegration: Poem for Eva Hesse
Compulsive winding, bandaging 
or what am I worth 
and also why don’t you leave me alone when I am doing these things? [...]
01.17.02
Three Poems
He’s sleeplessness pulled through
a sieve, snake branch beliefs
dangle from, overgrown
with flourishing abjections.  [...]
01.06.02
Reverse Song
not because there is a road
and a woman walking,
nor the trees lining this road,
the light at half mast [...]

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In Print

Vol. 74
Grendel’s Kin: The Monsters Issue
Spring 2020
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

October 21, 2020
Send more Chuck Berry, went the joke—how the aliens would reply when they got their first spin of the Golden Record on the Voyager. Sweet, friendly aliens with toe-tapping rhythm (whether or not they had feet), an appreciation for sweat and guitar riffs pooling together even if they had no first-hand experience with either.
October 14, 2020
I like the black & white. I like
the mirage they create. I like
            planes. I like stray dogs
who never forget where I come from.
(Ashram, North India)
October 7, 2020
The woman knocking on my door has a dilemma. She only has x-amount of time per day to dedicate to prayer. So, on whom should she focus her prayers? The migrants who are starving, the people with the virus, or those of us stuck here? If us, which one of us? How much should self-interest factor in? Should she pray the most for the woman with the slight heart condition or the woman she most wants to leave the ashram?
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