I remember my mother dancing. I remember craning my neck to see her, tilting my head so far back that my eyes were in line with my heels, for when I was short and round and two-years-old, my mother was tall and translucent, and very beautiful and would have been twenty-one-years-old. Continue reading “I Remember My Mother Dancing,” an Essay by Manju Prasad
I follow you as you follow the one above you.
You take the cliff, the trees, the deer on your wings.
I am behind you watching the ground over which we fly. Continue reading “Cliff Notes,” a Poem by Diane Glancy
If you turn
to the Mississippi
river, you’ll see
the closeted Continue reading “Earth Gazing,” a Poem by Rubin Hardin
On the corner of 16th Street and Peralta, in front of the New Jerusalem Baptist Church, is an antediluvian dopeman who will give you balloons of brown powder in exchange for exotic cheeses. For a pound of Jersey Blue you can expect at least three balloons; a pear-shaped Caciocavallo Podolico could get you six, possibly seven. Definitely seven. It is a well known fact that … Continue reading “The Wheel of San Geronimo,” an Essay by David Simmons
and feet Continue reading “Callus,” a Poem by Chris Alaimo