Spring 2015

Edited by Andrea Spofford | Barry Kitterman | Amy Wright


A Legacy

Aaron Anstett

Likely we’ll never nunchuck our way out of trouble
in drug lord’s warehouse on steamy, far-flung
capital’s outskirts, Asia, maybe, or South America,
then flee through brazen pluck and stunning wheelwork,

never successfully command animals to stop eating
each other for one second, broker peace between species,
and collaborate, constructing world’s tallest serial creature
that quells the evil in all men’s hearts, never even e-mail

the mayors of cities whose names strike us funny
and organize tours: Buttermilk, Bloom, Protection,
Acres, Greasy, Ulysses, Zigzag, Eek, Accident, Kismet.
Good days recall the texture of a child’s knees in summer,

to your children the surreal postcard implores.
Just before dawn we barely see the edges of things.
They look wispy, pencil-sketched, shimmering and frail.
crazy quilt of scabs. Parents! Recount your dreams

Back to the Issue Catalog

Related Selections


Picasso’s Pigeons

     It was the hour of the affair.

     I looked down from the roof of our attic apartment to the narrow stone alleys of Barcelona.

continue reading >


Freeze Frame

Paris,1939. The film stars Maurice Chevalier and Marie Deá, but I only know it through a two-minute clip. 

continue reading >


The Festive Revolver

By afternoon the black powder smoke had crackled and stung the air and idle gunfighters wandered the Front Street replica, a façade of clapboards pasted to the buildings behind them like Halloween masks.

continue reading >