Issue 25 | Fall 2021
Mine
Brian Henry
You can’t get close
to the hole,
can see it only
from an angle.
Even your gaze runs
no risk of falling.
With no wheels or pulleys
those thick ropes
serve no purpose
by hanging.
About the Author
Brian Henry is the author of eleven books of poetry, most recently Permanent State. He has translated Tomaž Šalamun’s Woods and Chalices, Aleš Debeljak’s Smugglers, and five books by Aleš Šteger. His work has received numerous honors, including two NEA fellowships, the Alice Fay di Castagnola Award, a Howard Foundation fellowship, a Slovenian Academy of Arts and Sciences grant, and the Best Translated Book Award.
Prose
Bomarzo Cecilia Pavón, translated by Jacob Steinberg
Sister in Basement, Manny Again Elsewhere Robert Lopez
Visitations Caroline Fernelius
Solution Linda Morales Caballero, translated by Marko Miletich, PhD
Auditions for Interference Theory Emilee Prado
Life Stories Robert(a) Ruisza Marshall
Out There Daryll Delgado
The Embassy Khalil AbuSharekh
Shaky From Malnutrition Mercury-Marvin Sunderland
Weatherman Gillian Parrish
The Taco Robbers From Last Week Steve Bargdill
Poetry
Epigenetics Diti Ronen, translated by Joanna Chen
i once was a witch Kiik Araki-Kawaguchi
Thralls Kevin McIlvoy
Mine Brian Henry
Catastrophic
marble chunk Shin Yu Pai
shelf life
Rebirth Tamiko Dooley
Before the Jazz Ends Adhimas Prasetyo, translated by Liswindio Apendicaesar
After Jazz Ends
Scent of Wood
Cover Art
Untitled Despy Boutris