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 [...]

Connect

e-mail
Submissions

In Print

Vol. 78
Fear Itself
Spring 2022
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

May 11, 2022
                                  1.

Someone nodding, and the light pressing down
as though it had weight.
And right in the middle of what I want to say
there’s a long row of chairs. There are green,
red, yellow arches that gradually contract
and close, like doors.
Like a disease whose threshold no one can cross,
she says.
May 4, 2022
Once upon a time, there was only Olga and me, as well as our old dog, Boji, in a big house we inherited from our parents, whose food we had slowly been poisoning in a span of at least a year. Our parents blamed their “chronic illness” on inclement weather, on the “heathens” who played rock music next door, sometimes on “cursed” and “possessed” appliances and furniture.
April 27, 2022
birds, vital furniture for our eyes. The floor refoliates
a dozenfold. Months
these days waltz
triple-time
within us. Echoes of fundamental shapes. Great-

grandfather, Harry Houdini’s accountant.
Isaac, our cousin the Don, muscled his way into King’s spitting distance.
All told, say
the performance outlived the performer?
O
advertisement