by Blas Falconer

The ruffled hem floats
as you spin.
Of them all,

the one you like
The ruffled hem, as you ...


by Irene Sanchez

Freeways connect
The Golden State
3 strikes ...

The Santa Anas

by Caitlin Mohney


from here the earth
is a shade of the darkest ...

The Night Moving

by Magda Kapa

How does the night move?
There must be a moment
when it moves over your body ...


by Cynthia Atkins

O sister on the other side
of the mirror, all sass and vinegar.  
Galaxy of lace and petticoats ...

Regarding the Man With the Stolen Past

by Jon Thompson

Imagine a novel about a man who
never knew his early years; it comes across as

a fictionalized story that nevertheless feels overwhelming
in the rich particularity of his life, and its

equally rich loneliness, as he struggles to live it.
Or perhaps it’s about a fictionalized man

with a lost past that was real, utterly real,
and his growing up is the story ...

Sand and Bone

by Annie Finch

        (Todd’s Point, Reid State Park, Maine)

I came shivering, knowing how lines of the tide
will use seaweed, and sea-drift, and sea-wrack (and bone) ...

What to Donate

by Barbara Morales

Clothes in cuts of shirts, pants, coats, jackets, sweaters, blouses, nightgowns and robes. Not/ underwear or bras - throw these out. There’s too much of her in them to give ...

Can’t Tell You Much

by Jed Myers

In the frozen aisle’s uniform glare/ a tall boy stares. Not through the glass/ doors at tubs of ice cream or the stacked/ pizzas in cardboard. Through the air/ ahead, toward the checkout registers,

but I’m sure it’s nothing there, not the movie/ magazines, racks of chocolate bars, dyed/ carnation bouquets. I’d say he looks/ amazed by a scene in the near future.

Come to a standstill as if he means/ to keep what distance he can between/ himself and his premonition, he’s focused ...


by A.E. Talbot

In golden underbrush and old growth, the wood-borer/ opens timber to light. The bracken thorns ...


by Laura Villareal

San Marcos, Texas

Around noon the sheriff pulled up at my aunt’s house./ My cousins had been ...

What an Arroyo Can Do

By Sarah Sarai

It is possible for an arroyo to hold water, / just as a gutter, one of its definitions, can. ...

On the Semi-Frozen Sanabria

By Ernesto L. Abeytia

My brother laughs, bets he can cross
Without falling through.

We know he can’t—
The ice is too thin. ...


By Darby Price

If those without memory live nowhere/ then the reverse must be true and/ we live everywhere at once, in places/ exhumed, reanimated/ so often we forget their names/ We forget so much these days:/ which road took us to St. Mark’s/ where the lighthouse was/ the native names of rivers/ we threw ourselves into/ pale buoyant bodies illuminating/ ancient sinkholes/ in woods we can’t recall heat lightning guttering/ in far-off clouds/ How many years since/ the rope swing/ parabola leap/ How many years/ since the killdeer’s call bored into us ...

Full Gallop


I return to the house a little more burned,/ a little more/ peopled by your faces turned toward that horserace/ the past/ where we are from, where winter ...


By Marcus Jackson

The rain was righteous and godless,/ and when together, in a room during such rain,/ our concerns took on the disposition/ of a purse full of shattered glass. ...