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Autumn 2016

Far Aberdare

When Donna asked me to come to far-flung Aberdare, I thought about the trees in the nighttime – those burnt-bone-looking monsters that made folks huddle together. In the old days, we’d gather around fires at night, all facing the fire, and, incidentally, each other, and we’d speak. When you see the trees at night, you […]

Three Poems

Circadian Rhythm Your jaw is a beam of rotting wood/ It is where sadness starts The mouth carries apple-cradled jewels/ & a heat-dipped horizon, First Child clipping crimson out of the sky/ So the birds miss their own singing The boy on the corner is pretzel-throated/ Shows you alcohol under a microscope While First Child carries jade […]

Dot is tired of omitting her ex-girlfriends, the ones she cannot write without confusing pronouns or a cocked brow from the man in her workshop who keeps accidentally touching her leg. She is tired of the pink in her cheek being a blush of cold, an accident of blood. She wants to write about the […]

The Magician

In early 1860’s Virginia, Samuel was a rare thing, a free Negro. Rarer still, he was not a farmer, tradesman, or manual laborer. He was a magician in the tradition of Henry “Box” Brown and his talent came as natural to him as breathing. Samuel hadn’t known his parents, Hezekiah and Hannah. Both  had been slaves […]