when the tigers break freethere is an unrestricted view of salvation but i fear this feeling of fullness—from “We Want Your Art but We Will Not Pay,” Volume 64, Issue 4 (Winter 2022) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote:One of the first pieces I ever worked on was The . . .
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Photo credit: Jill Frank Ma speaks with her eyes focused on some faint mark on the table’s oilcloth. Hasnahena or Pāẏarā listens to the history of her naming again, after a long time. She has known it since her childhood. But, somehow, it is as though a festival celebrating her inconsequential human . . .
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In the country, I could be better. I could learn to weave baskets and identify edible plants. I could learn to sew, to sing, to wear my hair in loose braids that tickle my bare shoulders. Believe me, I know how it sounds. I know my reasons for wanting this life seem . . .
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In California, in a dumpster, a rattler layhalf-coiled atop a grease-soaked pizza box, half-cloaked by yesterday’s news.It was no friend of mine, the snake, though, to tell the truth, in such repose, no enemyeither.—from “It’s Never Just a Snake,” Vol. 63, Issue 3 (Fall 2022) Tell us about one of the . . .
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Ambahy—konantitra, I cannot comprehend this power that you wield. . . The power of death’s morbid attraction, of the will to turn toward anarchy, toward a world where nothing is sacred anymore, where nothing has more power than its own form . . . I do not know. Intense desire for emancipation . . .
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She’s sure she can’t be dreaming, becuase she can feel Nora’s hand on hers. The touch is light, barely there, but the cold bracelt is enough to bring her into the morning, back into the colorless room.“Aunt Peggy,” Nora whispers. “You’re having a bad dream.” The tops of Nora’s fingersgraze her forearm, . . .
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It is not insistent. It is not desperately clinging to the is, the are. It is familiar with the dusk.(I write, “It is familiar with the dusk,” words.) It does not call Do you believe, do you believe.—from “A Meadowlark in Arrow Rock, Mo.” Volume 63, Issue 3 (Fall 2022) Tell us about . . .
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I will try to put this in perspective in the coming weeks. Heading down to Ocean Road Beach just after sunrise, standing at the water’s edge, looking toward the horizon for signs of calm and peace, I’ll interpret an overhead blue heron as postive harbinger, a far-off tanker as portent of stability.—from . . .
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At the university where I worked part-time the most it would cost $700 per month for just my health insurance, much more for my family. This university owned like a quarter of the city. Maybe you could get your BA in landlording. Trump is one of their best-known alums. In those years . . .
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Garnet like the edges of Bible pages—no, not that dark, think brighter, more sacred, less symbol of hatred, moreof the revered called to repair this land’s flag bothered ragged by those cured with the devil’s mark—from “Hydra,” Volume 63, Issue 3 (Fall 2022) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.Not . . .
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