Issue 27 | Fall 2022
Surf
Cameron Morse
Breath is soft, surf
from a distant island, before day-
break, another day breaks
upon you. Your day sees you
sitting with your kitten
and advances its handshake from a distance.
What was that about an island, again,
for a fugitive? A small island
that breathes, its scent
of salt and seaweed. Whatever.
Where you can remember the way food tastes,
its original flavor. An island that flowers
folds its handkerchief into your breast pocket.
Breath tramps off among the dandelions
but stays within earshot. Day breaks
its egg into a bowl and you beat it with a fork.
About the Author
Cameron Morse (he, him) is senior reviews editor at Harbor Review and the author of eight collections of poetry. His first collection, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press’s 2018 Best Book Award. His book of unrhymed sonnets, Sonnetizer, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books. He holds an MFA from the University of Kansas City-Missouri and lives in Independence, MO, with his wife and three children. For more information, check out his Facebook page or website.
Prose
Nonie in Excelsis (Excerpt from About Ed) Robert Glück
Dirk Julia Kohli, translated by Rob Myatt
Panthera onca Jasleena Grewal
The Border Solomon Samson
Tikibik Dominic Blewett
Mistake or Accident Laurie Stone
Excerpt from Mice 1961 Stacey Levine
The Cathedral of Desire Nina Schuyler
The Gorge James Warner
In This Case, He Killed an Innocent Person Carla Bessa, translated by Elton Uliana
A Chinese Temple in California Alvin Lu
Poetry
you have become an archive. Lorelei Bacht
thunderclouds
On the Things I Did at the End of the World Beatriz Rocha, translated by Grant Schutzman
In this movie David C. Hall
Spot Rolla Barraq, translated by Muntather Alsawad and Jeffrey Clapp
Let There Exist For Us… Eva-Maria Sher
That I Would Cameron Morse
Surf
Cover Art
Image 001 Richard Hanus