39.1 Marissa Davis
When the Blood Came some days, rain. some days, rain, but harder. a river of pink mimosa frenzying, loosing blooms like feathered...
39.1 Luther Hughes
Making the Bed He takes the sheets to his nose. They are fresh out the dryer, more ashen than any overcast in this city. When he brings...
39.1 Laura Perkins
Flush “Here’s a ghost story,” I say when it’s my turn. “A true one.” This happened not far from here, on a cliffside road pinned by...
39.1 Kelly Weber
Conversion with Petrichor and This Clitoris Somewhere west of Maroon Bells and the hardest part of my body I pull over and put the...
39.1 Aldo Amparán
Endings This morning I have fog for breakfast. A whole bank of it. Before sunrise. Plucked from the corners of a mountain. & already I’m...
39.1 Maria Zoccola
i sit with miss jean to learn witchcraft at a catholic nursing home a golden shovel from “my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell”...