Online Exclusives

We divide the rectangular glass terrarium diagonally across the bottom, into triangular halves of clay and sand. [...]

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. [...]

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 [...]

    Aunt sleeps on, neglecting our selves; her rustic
devils furnish us with sorrow. [...]

“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. [...]

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 [...]

Silent trees are failure and fault

Half the creatures come when called, half tilt away [...]

Cold has descended on the county. By week’s end, we expect a hard frost.  [...]

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. [...]

Up in the hills the talk was of the men all disappeared and presumed dead. [...]

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. [...]

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 [...]

We are dragging it by hand now. The engine gave out days ago in a ravine two kilometers south of the parallel. [...]

Thank you for saying pathos instead of pathetic, keeping us the same size as before. [...]

Compulsive winding, bandaging 
or what am I worth 
and also why don’t you leave me alone when I am doing these things? [...]

He’s sleeplessness pulled through
a sieve, snake branch beliefs
dangle from, overgrown
with flourishing abjections.  [...]

not because there is a road
and a woman walking,
nor the trees lining this road,
the light at half mast [...]