Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
Two Mice of Ivory The year my father set adrift, the levee burst, my family’s belongings blew out all the windows and doors— making clear who held the foundation, close-fisted and sturdy— and nobody cared to clear up the debris, least of all my mother; who, instead, called forth the buzzards to graze on the heirlooms, leaving me to imagine a past wherein the birds…
“Nimbus, stratocumulus, cumulus—” Mel began. “Don’t forget cumulonimbus.” Dash always butted in, throwing around all her big words and ideas, adding “lenticular” or “supercell storm cloud” when she could. “Shut up!” Mel punched her younger sister on the upper arm but not too hard. They both stared up, the air empty and blue, not a nimbostratus in sight. In fact, the sun was so big…
Theoretical physicist Richard Feynman once said about sight: “The brain has developed a way to look out upon the world. The eye is a piece of the brain that is touching light, so to speak, on the outside.” J’lyn Chapman’s newest book To Limn/Lying In reminds readers to look out upon the world, as well as inward—to touch the light that lives outside of ourselves….
Languages and change, buses and trains, the tracks of planets – for our series on transit, transition, and translation, we’re looking for stories, poems, and nonfiction that deal with change and movement in under 1000 words. Submissions will open at 12 a.m. PDT on April 14 and close at 11:59 p.m. We can’t wait to read your work!
Oftentimes I wake with Don’t Forget written on the back of my hand in black ink. I never remember what— Maybe the dead headlight, or car oil rotting in its pipe. Perhaps, a reminder to turn off the radio, move my poetry drafts off the back deck before it rains. It could be don’t forget to crawl into bed before midnight but only after brushing…