Nothing I have known ever seemed real until I touched you with it. — Jenny Browne, from “Luck,” Oxford American (Fall 2017)
Alternate Endings There are times when they gather at the edge of your life, Shadows slipping over the far hills, daffodils blooming too early, the dark matter of the universe that threads its way through the few thousand blackbirds that have invaded the trees out back. Every ending sloughs off our dreams like snakeskin. This… Continue reading Richard Jackson
When I die, I’ll come back an oakleaf hydrangea— Something bigger than I was when we began. When you die I want you to be a boy so I can take you in on some decrepit path pretending the wind running through somehow belongs to you. When you bury me… Continue reading Tasha Cotter
Gulf of Sorrows If we were a black velvet painting I’d come out of the frame and hit the arc of your pain a bat in the rafters There, now we can rest Emily Kendal Frey, Sixth Finch. Summer 2013.
Night doesn’t fall, but rather, all the disregarded shadows of a day flock like blackbirds, and suddenly rise. — Stuart Dybek, from “Ravenswood,” Alaska Quarterly Review, Fall & Winter 2012
Place Message Here I knew that somewhere Jesus wept. –Larry Brown, Dirty Work That was when our love began for me, though late, the way a flock of darkness settles over your shoulders. I remember the muted reflections that smudged the water prowling among the lingering rocks, a snail crawling out of… Continue reading Richard Jackson
That was when our love began for me, though late, the way a flock of darkness settles over your shoulders. I remember the muted reflections that smudged the water prowling among the lingering rocks, a snail crawling out of its shell, the drizzle of light, the blackened windows. It was when that the sun peeled… Continue reading Richard Jackson