Little Red Riding Hood at the Dog Park by Collin Tracy
My Nebulae, My Antilles by Quintan Ana Wikswo
Brethren by Jenn Scott
Poetry
Two poems: Historical Action Figures, and To Petrol and Honey by Mark Bibbins
Three poems: Sasha Pimentel Chacón: On a Business Meeting in Bulacan [...], and Sasha Pimentel Chacón: Safely Watching a Solar Eclipse, and Sasha Pimentel Chacón: In Their Dark Habits by Sasha Pimentel Chacón
Three poems: The Medical Expert Held the Floor, and The 1987 Edition of the Sears Roebuck [...], and It Is Not for Dogs to Tell Their Masters [...] by Anthony Madrid
Amelia Gray, Museum of the Weird . Fiction Collective 2 (FC2), 2010. Paperback, 171 pp. $15.50. Literature of the Quirky has become something of its own generic subset in the past …
Emma Rathbone, The Patterns of Paper Monsters . Reagan Arthur Books/Little, Brown and Co., 2010. Paperback, 206 pp, $13.99. Hannah Pittard, The Fates Will Find Their Way . …
Benjamin Percy, The Wilding . Graywolf Press, 2010. Hardcover, 288 pp, $23.00. James Dickey’s Deliverance joined our literary canon forty years ago, opening with the unfurling …
Robin Ekiss, The Mansion of Happiness . University of Georgia Press, 2009. Paperback, 64 pp, $16.95. Robin Ekiss’s first book, The Mansion of Happiness , is peopled with …
Poet Ben Mirov is coming into his own this year. With two books now in print, both having won publication awards, there is a substantial collection of poems to read and admire. The absolutely …
1. … Zhenya moves as if her left side were heavier than her right. She leans like an old village fence, almost kissing the ground, and a shred of green cloth, scudded by the wind around the …
If I believed in genius, then I’d say Yes I am one But I don’t believe, believe in it Nor intelligence Or all that Why? Because it is fostered Determined It is not born It is not a magical …
When I was a boy, he says, the sky began burning, & someone ran knocking on our door one night. The house became birds in the eaves too low for a boy’s ears. I heard a girl talking, but they …
Little propeller working between the two fields of my a’s, making my name a small boat that leaves the port of old San Juan or Ponce, with my grandfather, Miguel, on a boat, or in an airplane, with …
A gun is an instrument of articulation: Glory be the backyard travesty, orange grass and ochre leaves . My gun is not my gun, but it is a kind of being: my word, one may care to carry it . The …
A very tall red oak tree grows on a hill past the barn, past Mom’s sheep and llamas and goats. It is the tallest tree on our Tennessee farm and because it plunged its roots down on the …
… moves like a centipede in the bathtub. Pricks like punctuation. Festers like a puddle of water edged with mud where cows trod and bullhead slurp. Who would dive into fear like that, willingly? …
“Make it a mistake” —Gertrude Stein, “Patriarchal Poetry” “There is an e at the end of time,” my student Samantha whispered to Tim, pointing out to her friend that he had …
Let’s say she lies all day upon the beach in the Antilles, and I embroider her until she becomes my buttonhole: a silken stitch with needle and thread of seaweed. And then I slip through her skin …
Jeffrey and I liked to go our separate ways for lunch. I usually had a tuna-radish sandwich and ate at my desk. The radishes were my inspiration: I liked to think of how they clashed with my …
What I can’t get is how he, even being only half a man, didn’t flub it up. Even if he was a prophet or some riddle of a priest. The finest preachers I know hardly ever decline something to drink …
Compared to an egg, seashell, or shark, humans are, in general and already, crazy. Only the human looks away when attacked, though its propensity to do so exponentially increases the probability for …
Abbreviated and enormous, hand-held and vast, portable and rooted—the short prose piece seemingly cannot exist in nature. The form is essential because of this particular magic, this …
