Featuring work from Francesca Bell, Kate Gale, Joel Moskowitz, Russell Evatt, Janet Jennings, Ray Keifetz, Lizi Gilad, Steven Ostrowski, Adrian S. Potter, Dan Nowak, Kamden Hilliard, J. Bruce Fuller, Sarah Carson, Hugh Behm-Steinberg, Ricky Garni, Hillary C. Katz, John A. Nieves, Savannah Throne, Ira Sukrungruang, Lee Ann Roripaugh, Jenny Ferguson, Jerry Vanieperen, Anthony Frame, Jennifer Gravley, Fred Arroyo, Susan Aizenberg, CM Burroughs, Nicholas Chng, and Eszter Takacs
by Hillary C. Katz
The city grays over. Blackness at the edges
like an underexposed photograph. Before sunrise
I witness a pigeon strung around the neck, hanging
from a wire fence. When my bicycle’s front tire goes
flat, I walk twenty blocks in the morning’s mist
past toothless men on the sidewalk who smile
more than children. These early hours are striped
with humid sadness. The day turns to sand, a beach
with patterned divots and pelicans floating overhead.
The summer sweats itself, the ocean swallows spineless
bodies. Brutality cannot be unseen. This is the month
I keep mixing up the words terrible and beautiful.
by John A. Nieves
If I called this
body a bonehouse,
would my flesh feel
cheated? Would it
sallow and wriggle
itself free? If I
called my soul other
smoke, would it wonder
what fire? Would
it search for the teal
center, the whiplick
withering the wick?
What if I called us
us? Would it close
the road like an accordion
with mile marker spines?
What note would it
play? What note?
What if I called?