Just ahead of dawn, the wall was like a silken drape near a silver light: keeping nothing out, keeping nothing in. — Cindy St. Onge, from “Resurrection (An Aubade),” Dappled Things (10.3, SS. Peter and Paul, 2015.)
My Aphrodisiac Now that you are gone, I want to tell you, you are wrong. About everything. Consider perspective as a case in point. You loved to inform me that far-away things appear smaller. I am here to tell you that distant things grow bigger. Missing objects are the largest of all. Their shadows can… Continue reading Nin Andrews
In the beginning was the fragment, and the fragment cast a shadow, and the shadow became the word. — Carlos V. Reye, from “Histories,” in “Fragments on Fragments 1,” FragLit (no. 1, Fall 2007)
All I have never been troubles the night. — Phyllis Hoge Thompson, “Do Not Tell Me That in Another Life You Will Leave Notes for Me Everywhere So That Next Time We Can Find Each Other,” The Hudson Review. Spring 2007.
Nights like this I dream I am lightning, or a cigarette lit too long, my body a lighthouse, beacon made of bone. — Katie Vagnino, from “The Storm,” Words Apart, Issue 4 (April 30, 2015)
And soon it’s not just that, but this, this something else, this sticking of gears, this mile of pulled stitches that ravels out of my ear, this tear that comes from nowhere, this fritz, this hitch, this itch that won’t quit, that begets the grains of something like regret and sows them everywhere. — Claire… Continue reading Claire Wahmanholm
But to write is to dignify memory — Allan Peterson, from “Footnotes,” Mississippi Review (vol. 41, no. 3, Winter 2014)