Me and Dorothea and the Rocket Wheel by Hunter Boone

She had a face sopitted by acneshe was the walking surfaceof a cratered moon.I sat kitty-corner across from her inadvanced English class.One thing I noticed:  her body’s shape,an erotic transportshe would offer to anyone. I seldom spoke to herbut one day at a carnivalwe rode the rocket wheel together.Spinning, I put my arm around her and breathed on her face and neck andher two warm … Continue reading Me and Dorothea and the Rocket Wheel by Hunter Boone

Brushwork by Victor Marrero

An ancient sweeper stationed outside the museum’s entrance doors. The same one every day. A mute. Diminutive. Crescent back, leathered skin, toothless sunken cheeks. Garb a coarse blue denim sack. Something foreign in her withered face.Her look like a model for avant-garde images exhibited inside,conjures sculpture, oil on canvas, a book of verse. She pushes a wooden broom along. Hard brown bristles. Artful, jerky, syncopated … Continue reading Brushwork by Victor Marrero

Tract by Alan Elyshevitz

If you are end-time man, end-time woman, sick in the groin, half-Jewish on your mother’s side, then this life of chloracne and checking accounts is only a fable of ganglia. Believe not the fine-tuned numbers of aerodynamics nor the poultice warmed by nursing hands (Proverbs 3:5,6). Read the Bible daily: Hebrews, Philippians. In abnegation, testify: I was bored in my limited office space; Christ came … Continue reading Tract by Alan Elyshevitz

Ms. Alligator by Hunter Boone

She had the emotional presence of a toothpick, the personality of a comatose eel… A woman I desiredread Antigonewhich she encouraged me to do, so Idid. When I came upon “Teiresias” I said,“I can’t spell that.” She said,“Look it up.” Somewhere. She became that womanyou wouldn’t expect –out of proportionto everything else. When she movedher body slid –of a piece – which caused a problem.The … Continue reading Ms. Alligator by Hunter Boone

A Bowl of Jesus Christ Rice by Hunter Boone

Today at breakfast Sister Mary has pulled out from her cupboardA blue box filled with crispy crosses –edible rice branthe color of amethyst Trix. She pours the milk overher wholesome “t’s” and watches them floatminiature crosses buoyant on a purple sea,the envy of all Carmelites. Sister bows her head and prays overher tiny morsels, eachinfinitesimal snap, crackle and pop,giving thanks for some rangy white-haired Divaback … Continue reading A Bowl of Jesus Christ Rice by Hunter Boone

Antecedent—What? No Tweets Yet? by Micol Bez

I set up twitter yesterday, for this, in part, looking for an occasion to be brave, to show solidarity, sharing my #YouKnowMe, to write a love letter to Alabama, to Verona – to admit my privilege and put it in service of others. At least these are my self-congratulatory reasons. As a dear friend phrased it more candidly, twitter should have you sign a consent … Continue reading Antecedent—What? No Tweets Yet? by Micol Bez