Fall 2019
ART: The Oil Paintings of Michael Fantuz FICTION: “The Edge of Something” by Brendan Thompson“The Commuter’s Dream” by Charles Duffie“Petaki Road” by Andrew Marvin“Deep Dreams” by Jieyan Wang NONFICTION: “Vultures” by Brandi Jo Nyberg“Loving My Neighbor” by Rick Kempa POETRY: Four Poems by Esther RaTwo Poems by Kathryn Kirkpatrick“Something About a Black Boy” by Len Lawson“Navigation Song” by Sandy LonghornFour Poems by Rebecca Macijeski“The First … Continue reading Fall 2019
The Oil Paintings of Michael Fantuz
All of the artwork featured in volume 9 is the work of Canadian oil painter Michael Fantuz. Fantuz is a self-taught artist who uses palette knives, primarily those inherited from his fraternal grandfather, Gastone Fantuz. He stretches his own canvases using Canadian kiln dried wood from renewable forests, archival and environmentally friendly hemp canvas, and professional archival grade pigments from Winsor and Newton Artist Paints. … Continue reading The Oil Paintings of Michael Fantuz
Vultures
When I see vultures gorging on the surplus of our society, I wonder if they are judging us. I believe thanks to vultures and other carrion lovers, we don’t always have to judge ourselves. They effectively remove a problem. But they feed on rotten meat… Continue reading Vultures
Loving My Neighbor
“If this is all we were to each other—mere vessels to catch the overflow, mute as clay, incapable of response—elbow-to-elbow living would not be so taxing. But we do not, alas, just gape at the misshapen fruit. We turn it over in our hands, we nibble and gnaw, we even bite into it, honing our teeth.” Continue reading Loving My Neighbor
Two Poems
the closed door so frank, so telling
in its silence, like a tongue at rest
Four Poems
She travels through me
opening every door she can,
her pockets heavy with keys. Continue reading Four Poems
Something About a Black Boy
A revolution rests
behind his eyes
where the tears of
mothers sleep Continue reading Something About a Black Boy
The First Thing I Wrote on This Retreat Was Not Supposed to Be About My Mother
But this is not about deer, though looking for them is a fine distraction. Continue reading The First Thing I Wrote on This Retreat Was Not Supposed to Be About My Mother
Navigation Song
I, too, am a bit Obsessed
with my own wind-tossed turning Continue reading Navigation Song
Symptoms of Manhood
I am all unstruck flint &
lost potential. Continue reading Symptoms of Manhood
Four Poems
My tongue swam like leaves in hot tea,
the silence burning at my mouth. Continue reading Four Poems
The Edge of Something
Despite my wish that I be called Nathaniel, Stephanie has always insisted on calling me Nate. I don’t want to suggest that she is always so contrary, and I do find it endearing now, though it took time. She has a contrarian streak in her that shines through more often than I have been consistently comfortable with, yet I completed much of my PhD thanks … Continue reading The Edge of Something
The Commuter’s Dream
Each night David’s wife said, “I’ll just help him down.” But when David entered the room an hour later, the crib was always empty. Mother and child lay in bed, asleep in a way he himself never slept. Light from the small lamp, transmuted by canary-painted walls, cast the bedroom in parchment tones. It’s like a new world, he thought, like seeing land from the … Continue reading The Commuter’s Dream