by Sarah Maclay
Always, he said, one should carry three wigs. He had just removed the one she most associated with his hair. She hadn’t seen it coming. Now he looked like a clown. Odd how it most affected the look of his teeth.
Poems
Poems: Archives
from Field Recording
On March 8, 2010by Junior Clemons
honesty exists in the midwest—
what is said if asked: there are horses
and they encourage moments
The Excavation
On March 4, 2010by Beth Understahl
Digging up the frozen mammoth brought about all kinds of speculation. Like how faces can become painfully distorted. I can’t look away. And try to calm my mouth into a comforting gesture.
Songless Era
On March 1, 2010By Brenda Hillman
A fine ash obscured the sun.
Leaves grew large as rooms.
Stamped recreants strolled near the pond of wands.
There was a great and terrible brightness
Ron
On February 25, 2010by Victoria Chang
We drive into Ron’s house through the front door up the marble
stairs. The tires don’t damage the stairs. We don’t slip. I don’t know
where my child is, but I think she is standing at a sink pouring water
Articles
Feuilleton
Monday, July 6, 2009
Abe Lowenthal on Globalizing California
Poetry
This week in L.A.
From the green room
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Orson Welles
Orson Welles was born on May 6, 1915, and directed his most acclaimed film, Citizen Kane, at age 26. Years later, after a couple disastrous movies and a sojourn in Europe, he would reunite with one of its stars, Joseph Cotton, in The Third Man. Welles' character, Harry Lime, is the missing center of the movie until he appears, finally, and explains his motives for entering a less-than-savory line of work....
