Song for a Watch Repairer Saima Afreen Beyond the horizons of red butterflies Lies seashore of your eyes with hour glasses sleeping softly they were filled with moon dust That pagan goddesses exhaled With Galileo you, too, counted threads of light Till they became...

Apocalypse Later why prepare now when I can prepare later why do today what can be done tomorrow I’d rather go fishing or for a walk than prepare for the end of the world. I’d rather go for a Sunday drive or maybe visit my parents than stockpile food and ammunition...

Moving the Earth Melissa Frederick February 7, 1812 The farmers of New Madrid felt the first shudder of Manifest Destiny like Jesus crashing to earth like fierce fists striking the iron gates of heaven. It was the land, this time, that rebelled: tremors swept through...

Mazenderan Mark A. Fisher was it love? that in darkness bound them or fear? that drew them together to become monsters phantoms in dark passages to dash romantically within a bubble of ignorance dressed-up illusions for a band of bigots and dumb-asses mere Keystone...

Old Fabric Between the forefinger and thumb lie the creases of an appeal for Godknowswhat. A parchment collaged with wrinkled post-its, paper chits, yellow square one-D windows of years gone by. The chintz sofa of a shared life is worn Its Persian rug threadbare –...

The Woman and the Serpent I prize the taste of this rare fruit above the sting of carnal knowledge: the tang of these teeth as they pierce, then sink like lodestone in the deep, I learned to breathe underwater for the sake of our joining. I wonder, do serpents take...

The Giftie On the front step are three fruit: an acorn, an apple, a sloe. The autumn sun gutters in the grey sky. I take the apple, but throw the sloe and the acorn to the hedge. As I eat the apple I look into the sun. Dark filaments, like cancers, pass through its...