New Year’s Letter to Li Bai
By Poetry Issue 111
Star-eater, you said / nothing when I asked; / you couldn’t hear me / with my mouth pressed
Read MoreThe Abstractionist
By Fiction Issue 111
Diego always called me mija, daughter, instead of Lisa. Once he called me by his ex-wife’s name, and ever since, he always called me mija. I thought he might have forgotten my name altogether, but he had his pride, and I took care not to embarrass him.
Read MorePicturing Silence: Stillness in Sound of Metal
By Editorial Issue 111
Stillness is hard. This is going to take practice.
Read MoreAfter Reading Song of Songs I Take Out the Garbage
By Poetry Issue 111
I’m carrying into the cold / a bulging trash bag, big enough to hold / and hold and stretch and hold, like love itself, /
and outfitted with handy drawstrings.
Paradiso, Canto I
By Poetry Issue 111
Because nearing what one wants, / Our intellect is so overcome / That our memory is left behind.
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