to dream
Marcia Arrieta
apart from the chaos

the continents a map

composing creation


the past undone

merged with ruins

& history unlocked


birdseed & philosophy—

the train across the land
a shoe
Marcia Arrieta
requires another shoe

but not always


*


realizing

wounded = ethereal
a dictionary of cloud types
Marcia Arrieta
unclaimed dynamics precise nonetheless

stronghold emotions contrary currents

superimpose birds houses in disarray


today we predict courage
with language unending
Marcia Arrieta
clouds   flowers   trees

faraway creating

mountains   desert   sky


(beware detachment)


collage the primitive

into infinity

seashells  leaves  stones

navigate

the stars  the nails  the paint


(avoid frames)
divergent
Marcia Arrieta
sustains
the
abstract
the
ancient
the
blue
the
temporary
the
forgotten
the humble & the sublime
Marcia Arrieta
the dirt road      Agnes Martin’s Tundra      the Virgin Mary at Chimayo

the river     the sky at sunset     Las Cruces     a trout     an eagle feather

the buffalo      the bear      the silence       the labyrinth      the stars
from Her Scant State
Barbara Tomash
an erasure of Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady




a notice of sale in the windows     little stoops of red stone
in childhood      peach trees  of barely credible
composed of bricks      almost human        haircloth sofa

an inquisitive      experimental quality  which of the daughters
are you?     writing money        anything about money    in point of fact
inherited       a very bad house        a wedge of brown stone
violently









————————————————————————————————
With folded hands I can only give, as I say, a blank page, a pure white surface easily, easily crushed. Please tell me. I have no memory. There was a young girl. I miss. I like. I’m really. I don’t. I don’t. When the sun goes I go. The mountains are so. I wish. Just a small sound like hands quickly. Kissed. I’m afraid. I’m only. The small dark, the clear grey which gave as it opened.
from Her Scant State
Barbara Tomash





telling a child a secret
     a little bruise      to live with

a shelter     a speck   I’m afraid you mean
    the clock      the room

taken ill     abusing the sound of
      child of the house










————————————————————————————————
Small, it was, the continuity of the human. It carried her (deeply) (tenderly) (when it suited her mood) (where it suited the place) from the gradations, confusions of color, the motionless hills, to the great historical works of human life. Wicked? And in spite of. Her, herself, she. Not wicked. Even deeply. (Deeply, deeply, deeply.) A matter of wonder. Like art for art, great artist as she was, Madame M had found her profit, her profit had married her, perfect money would take her money. And let her go? Ah. Help her. The boon must be irony. Poor, poor.
from Her Scant State
Barbara Tomash





the privileges of abundant new dresses      kaleidoscopic
the name of      the name of a       a        straight young man
a       foolish     period of history      standing near the lamp
requesting your attention














———————————————————————————————
I’ve seen poverty’s handshake burst the fact-angry window open and wildest hurt set up a house. Good enough for me. A very pretty American gaze doesn’t abuse people. "You know that, perfectly," still ironic like a brown velvet jacket, like a joke dying hard for a delicate glow of shame. Many forms—shocked and false and lost—drifted about the house, or sat in the garden head thrown back, irreclaimable. Pretend to like it? Art, protest, or hope. Indebted suburban hours and all young lovers listened to the nightingales.
from Passive
Adam Greenberg
translating  across   autochthonous
salt, each target picture recording lateral

movement dissolves at the sea flo or,
speakers have a strong preference

a pattern of experience accelerati on
under the sun of the object when
from Passive
Adam Greenberg
"release" has a much broader defin
ition than "disposal" shortening sea

ward so entangled, given ethno-grap
hic loops and ever more social gram

mars, a striking ambivalence toward
the beauty of the cosmos. Blind spot
from Passive
Adam Greenberg
scape as a passive container, data-
mined, carried out, "se limpió" se

en to be by (paid) volunteers back
drops for, or offers a voice? plants

trees or other nonhuman objects in
which MAP and YA-TRAP sweep
from Passive
Adam Greenberg
near infrared bands, wood operating
on anything moving freely about dri

ft fence arrays pitfall arrays cover b
oards pitfall traps funnel traps obser

ved not compelled to accept limitles
s resources all the while freely avail
from Passive
Adam Greenberg
field of background "noise" eaves
dropping: pioneer nematodes coup

led in winter, high friction hoppin
g tapping walking, long-eared bats

on the side of a tree trunk, torpid d
unnarts aroused soon after sunrise
from Passive
Adam Greenberg
likely to mis-parse upstream savin
gs structure, biomass, land-cover

to see something (someone) I’m i
nterested in the identical entertain

ment event, vegetation and co-con
sumption of this spatial corollary
Poem for Katie, Queen of Ohio #103
Darren Demaree
Your mother
was born

in the middle
of a warm room.

I was born
near a window.

I am proposing you
be born with two

hands on Ohio's ledge.
That is not progress.

There has been
no progress here.
Poem for Katie, Queen of Ohio #104
Darren Demaree
It's a little
like I'm asking

you to be
the lightning

I could not be.
It's a lot like

I keep setting fires
they put out.

I'm trying
to generate

enough ash to create
your path.
Poem for Katie, Queen of Ohio #105
Darren Demaree
The wind is not your diary.
Your pages

are Ohio's pages.
Your knife

is Ohio's knife.
Don't think too much

about the fat you trim.
Keep the blood

that's yours. When
nobody is listening,

say your mother's name.
Goddamn, I love you both.
Plush
Joel Chace
Finally, they trapped it under a basket. He said,

"Bring me the big dictionary from the den." She carried it

to him and thought he'd look up bat. But he slammed it down

over the little thing, then stood on the text, pressing more

and more of his weight, rising up on all those words. Still

clinging, two golden leaves soften that whole, wide

sanctuary of sky. To avoid late afternoon

alcohol, she smoked a cigarette, walked her dog, sat in

her car to watch sunlight take the side wall of a

yellow shed, then went home and mixed martinis. No attribute

of substance can be conceived from which it would follow

that substance can be divided. We had long ago drawn

apart from the rest, or else they had left us alone. There was

that magic circle round us which quickly encloses

those who have found each other. During the long and clear

Cambodian nights, when the stars filled every inch of the black

sky, the astronomer-priests stood on the long western

causeway and recorded the movements of the moon against

the towers in the top two galleries of the temple.
Punctuate
Joel Chace
A body in motion or at rest must be determined

to motion or rest by another body, which other

body has been determined to motion or rest by a

third body, and that third again by a fourth, and so

on to infinity. The dead, who have felt nothing

for so long, begin to sway happily on the far shore;

memories lap against their feet, spray in fine droplets

over their breasts, their beautiful heads. Fire is known to be fire

by the heat; fire in the eye, fire in the heart, fire in

the loins, all die, and this dying is the heart

of the matter. The endeavor, whereby a thing

endeavors to persist in its own being, involves

no finite time, but an indefinite time.
Attendance
Joel Chace
Downstream, a girl up to her waist, her dress flowing out

in front; she looks up in time to see, at a barge's stern,

an old man waving a red handkerchief. In the mind

there is no absolute or free will; but the mind is

determined to wish this or that by a cause, which has also

been determined by another cause, and this last by

another, and so on to infinity. Cresting fountains

rhyme. In the old African-American cemetery,

creamy white gravestones with now green-black lettering: risen,

chthonic language. The boy did not understand what

was happening in the kitchen; so, without a sound,

he backed into the other room. What am I saying? for there

is nothing worse than self-deception--when the deceiver is

always at home and always with you--it is quite terrible,

and therefore I ought often to retrace my steps

and endeavor to 'look fore and aft,' in the words

of Homer. And now let me see; where are we?
Realms of Apology
Joel Chace
Results such as these suggest that lateral

interactions within the frontal eye fields enhance

the neuronal responses to stimuli that will be

selected as saccade targets, and that such interactions

suppress the responses to uninteresting and

potentially distracting stimuli. Row

of tangled beads that grieve. He lights a sparkler

and disappears: spirals, eights, stars traced in quick, fierce

hissing; white-hot fizz hangs in place of his grin. Inasmuch as

this imagination involves the existence of

the horse, and the boy does not perceive anything which would

exclude the existence of the horse, he will

necessarily regard the horse as present: he will not

be able to doubt of its existence, although

he be not certain thereof. Azure sea grows;

gently takes a bear, snow, ice, horizons; sea and sky

lose themselves in each other's identical blue.
from Start Charging
Tony Mancus
Another way to start charging is to
imagine what a card can purchase
within its limits

How much you miss the buildings







And the sharp crack comes a measure after the bright

Longing decreases its potential

One arc from cloud to ground

Finite in form






Another way to start charging
the cloud
registers its ions

from space what looks like boiling in the tops
Upswell of colder air





the landcover moves
Shadowing whatever below

Houses uniform
the trafficked human
streets seeded
by rain



I don't know what causes
Bones and spit
the bright strike
yet it strikes again

We sit in
this shower
unable to recount the names we had

To talk through the weather in a controlled
environment

Streams temperate as they pour over our bodies
the mirror fog

before we were

A name for a band might be
some game we continued to play
throughout our lives

As freedoms die and we die with them
quiet as the portraits of chickens

next to whatever buildings
and farm implements

are drenched







In my feed Dead friends
of the long dead
wealthy
staring blank
into the faces of museum goers




Before the distrust of the camera lenses and currency
Whatever day it ever was,

same and same and same and

The world
song ringing like a hammer
against all the life-wasting questions
and quotes from poems

Water holding our heads
to drive the nail flat
Magic was said to lift the burden of whatever name sits
Inside the flippant machine carting each of us off toward further unknowing





I know
right from wrong or left
from something
tear stoked, like a cheek







Water holding

our heads flat
the nail it drives
Flat to the surface

There are sets
of experiences
we share
How to learn a language
Tony Mancus
Tune in the screen for wind
and not break open
this eddy, this eggshell

A cast in the chest for feeling
the lines

To draw them so
one world becomes
a replica of another

I can only see around corn
I can only err in a field
of dead grasses

No one settled
the streetlight
when it shook
and shook in
the weather

Each seal in the home
barking its caulk
into bits

I can see the hole
I'll believe in

This body raced
through and then
stone where
the glass was
a noise

Come gather
this muslin
and your checkers
Brush your face
again into the mirror

And what you
certain there
you contain
in feeling

The days
between each
blink

A line's drawing
its sole way
across the bridge
of your head
the fore part there

In it the things
you see you've said

And how many pennies
weigh their regrets
at the well bottom

Above them the sky
rifting the same
as it did for each
of us discarded
as a cheap metal wish
Ruminant
Tony Mancus
the tongue
licking
the side of the bell
to make a sound
like human form


no
the tongue
as it licks
the inside
of a bell
shaped like
a human
sound
(here the bell and human
slide into a round noise—a ring
and ing and ing that goes damp-
end further from its source)

the tongue tricks
the side
of a bell shaped
like a sound
human


a hum and shape
belled, with tongue
stuck inside
making noise
or no


translate the interior
of the bell
to round
the ring out


translate the human
shape to bell
the tongue
and hammer
it home


no hum
inside your
shape
able to
list and sound


the tongue
is silent
along the edge
of the meal
the metal
inside it red


a bell
is shaped
to lick
a hum and
hammer long
its side



(and the sound
pure said like
the percent of
metal rung out
in shape and ing
the noise a wall
makes verbs still
active outside
pressing their
hearing lobes
to get here)

a sound like you
the bell shapes


inside itself
thinking only
what it can form
like only it can
shape sound


you stand
before the bell
and stage a sound
to have language
go dead in
its tongue


the bell pulled
rope there
tongues
the shape
of one side
against itself
lobe pressed to wall
tongue damp
sound licking and ing
and ing
For now for ever
Tony Mancus
What I believe is a curtain
draped over an inanimate
animal

The dog leg
in my wife's
family's back
yard will be sold
along with the house
she grew up in

How do you ask anyone
what words they cherish
without sounding
sentimental?

I used to say I came
from the hard
coal region
and I still go there
a fire in my dismembering

Something resembling winter
on the verge of breaking
every edge of my mind

How all our heroes
die the same as we do
though maybe more or less
well liked, depending

But what if your hero
is a powerline, a lightpost,
the taxidermied donkey
next to the ruddy-faced
boy-mannequin in the mine

Where they put the lights out
in the belly of the ground
it gets so dark
I forget who even whispered
Hilarity Now
Mark DuCharme
It was only then I could go on
In words of bombs with inward
Glee— a grace built up of tiny
Yellow wrappers smudged with cake
All rain in echo of primitive voices
My grittiness unfurls. I quake

& Seek respite for bad tanning
Under the hills I embrace
This raunchiness neon breaks down
In quivers of fatty architecture
When things take shape then dissipate
Under the clanguor of being looked after

What does night remember
Of our burnt voices
When the wind grows clunkier
In the dread we seek
Like petals to a flame
Doused in umber sun? The line

Extends through its uncertainty
A throwback to a smudge
Cinched in bitter qualms that winter
Affixes
Like the weather to your hair

If songs break
In a mirror
Will your own breath freeze the light
& Hunger become futile
Like such brittle life we spill?
Entry of Shadows
Mark DuCharme
This was the fragment you last saw
Or maybe just imagined

In the light it was hard to tell
But sometimes you could feel uneasy

With windows rushing away
In a manneredness that settles into dusk

When you hear it, open the curtain
Drown, then scream, then wait for further

Manifestations to become apparent
Not what they seem, but needy

As the position of the light changes
& We're left with our uncertainties

Truths prepared for further viewing
Before it's easy to turn back

Now no one whispers
In the screenlight flowing

We knew it wasn't there
But persisted in the delusion

He finally allowed us to trigger
Until everything was night

Who had been calling
All these years, that we never bore

A fatal resemblance to
In the back of the truck where

We gaped nonsensically
Dreaming of oblique thrills

That soon would be delivered
If only we'd believe
Those Who Are Not Seen
Mark DuCharme
The household gods demanded a megachurch
To exalt their buggering.

We had a heart talk
& Averted all eyes to silence

Trundling the space between the driven & intimate
It was late & the light slanted

Away from her face
In an idiomatic glimmer. Don't

Warble, but jitter
All the way to a sublime distraction.

Did you have fun becoming
A saint of the peripheries?

It's too soon to start over,
Or is it? The next poem

You read will change your life only slightly.
Everything's born when we break

From the past, but if you can hear this, fidget
Like a warbler & bank

On forgetting
The next someday before it's too near—

Wild or giddy, as they often are.
If you think only the sea is rich with portents

Don't laugh at your shadow in a mirror.
It will be gone soon, this whimpering doubt

& Then you'll be left with birds— yes, those ones
Fluttering hungrily for your pulse.
Western Lindy Plutonium Flugelhorn Dalliance
Steve Potter
Flugelhorn investigation unit
dining fly diving bell ring-a-ding-ding
Ruth Buzzi    Lancelot Link Secret Chimp
pain killer murder rap music hall    Oates

Dalliance downlow clandestine affair
purple joy  secret tryst lemurs in the trees
Lou Ferrigno    ferris nitrate Bueller
Bueller shoot to kill    catamaran sail

Lindy Hop Along Cassady drove
Kerouac wrote On the Road
sea creatures    amusement park anemone
gathering feather storm tantrum alert

Plutonium sex appeal bomb ticket
sorbet tool iridescent naval test
scoop roger over 'n' outlast 'em all
ego-joust academy gamesmanship

Western lands freedom dreams  slaughter
bloodchain  dry bones inquest retribution
scrap trip trigonometry lever
boot heel observatory constrictor
Splendid Syncopated Time Torture
Steve Potter
Splendid diaphanous lepidoptera
crystalline pool table saw boxing match
television antenna adjustment
Thrilla in Manilla so said Cowsell

Time phantom evaporation syndrome
shark amber truth enamel sparrow tweet
spirituality tree bark corruption
heretical grasslands history

Torture chamber of commerce
paranoia dispensary clerk
desk jockey  mailroom skippy salesforce
armed services corpse provider

Syncopated taint    racist disdain
foot-dragging march of timidity
neon dart hall    chrome mags on van
spurt catastrophe laugh-track telethon

No disaster no benefit concert
bed without supper    grounded for life
beef barley soupervisor on accountant
green shade pen and pencil    "Dance this Mess Around"
Truculent Rococo Periscope Burrow
Steve Potter
Periscope tetrahedron spiral flow
undersea overland outer space
"we are here to go" quoth Burroughs bad shot
naked launch    Pigs in Space  Kermit the frog

Truculent spinster corroboration
deleterious road fork menace
perpendicular oddments Scarface
tangential electron necktie pavillion

Dichotomy rasp intestinal flume
ponder muse on reckon gather
disjointed thought elbow investment
tertiary clunk Byzantine flounce

Rococo with marshmallows and cooked ease
bellhop skip meal jump bail boogie
torrential downbeat uphill bat hell
fear loathing    lost vague gas hunter

Burrow dwell amass present bow
wire wee hero    werehare toga
pair yoga    goat fad haystack stretch
razor stubble clutter but tub hassle snout
Porcupine Glovebox Strychnine Tincture
Steve Potter
Porcupine tendency inflammation drag
coydog urban edge night shadow
alley ooze pipe leak parametric sconce
mandible hence partition Zeus track

Glovebox Fernandez zipper performance
astral dance germinator clobber fork
balustrade cloister dove lemonade Greek
ferrous moonglow butterfly amusement

Tincture stream Kandinsky peek ultimatum
fast fissure suture reset ballerina dollop
fiery Alsation peace corrective zither
toot-toot allure pindeldyboz alignment

Strychnine apple quickstep foghorn
mountain people gallop parapsychology
holler cattails houndstooth coating waxy
music tether sleeve encapsulation

Carbide lithium tractor pigeon shiv
prison siphon grifter net prophet
schoolyard bully wagon treatment facility
quack zone firmament roof-raising party
Elephantine Disenfranchisement Mud
Steve Potter
Bug tussle hemp frond old nightie Shemp
herculean art vamp     garish tonsil fort
stiffen coagulant parliament glue
shade tree neon cantaloupe spume

Disenfranchisement angle iron ore
undercover ubermensch side-by-side
flying dream purity test witches drowned
mark of Zorro hair of the dog

Mud ink clipshot spider tenant fury
scream police shift change caterwaul event
earthquake seas party    sky cries windy
candelabra Poseidon monarchy

Elephantine whittle click shooter toad
pylon stutter check skip canal array
fistabule stamen base cone firehose
antediluvian parsnip combat

Hip ache cool pain trendy spasm
diorama hut Achilles' ten dollar bill
sport killing ass burger hole of sham
hey fam  wink  nod    secret sandwich sauce
from Tell Me How It Makes You Feel
Valerie Hsiung
Forgot we could still telecommunicate to women on old dvd covers.

You could live with someone for your entire life, like not even ever meet another person, and still not know, for instance, what that person even thinks about you.

It isn’t hard to sweep me off my feet, even though I am the oldest troll kept fat on a leash by a human.

It isn’t hard to fall down still the rabbit hole but if you’ve ever tried making rabbits fall in love, then you know what I’m talking about as well…

I have been very good and very patient. I have been etc. Now is the time to wail. Now is the time to arrive, to run through the streets naked, cross-eyed.

Somewhere, a pedophile just rejoiced! But fuck it is so very hard to protect the freedom of our words without sacrificing the abuse they will undoubtedly profligate, incur.

No one hid a manual for endurance somewhere in a box tucked away in the wall somewhere for us. Our language has holes. Gave us wings though.

They have attached some machine between us though. They are going to suck out all of the songs though. From my lazy bum though. I thought about reporting though, preparing some sort of defense though. I weighed the pros and cons though. We all should.

It always ends with one looking at oneself in a mirror. When you open the door out of your green room, fall straight out of the sky.
from Tell Me How It Makes You Feel
Valerie Hsiung
When we push conceptual art into the fire pit seven lines of our ancestors were subject to roundups to test for a different disease in their clitoris Yet you say I would have been a shit comedian, I say, it’s not your fault your family fell apart
It’s time for you to meet each other Picked out one too many seeds in this bunch I was never wicked then Trust me Today I am wicked I was never a cliche trust me today I am a the cliche once again planned this out so poorly but I’ll/ill will still work by itself it’ll still be beautiful it’ll still work itself out ‘cause it's time for me to call you on video chat Not
that it matters but you aren’t the only one I left
in the grease of the brass I’m really how much how little is we should not be reproached for hearing the sirens
for spilling the sirens out of the causeways within us
Every new curatorial name is a And like dog hair that’s been tied up with a rubber band our lives can never be quite
Remember tis not worth so many bloody dresses that we cant not rot beside one anoth.
from Tell Me How It Makes You Feel
Valerie Hsiung

I want to know, I put all the songs into this one, I want

you to know. Like crumbled up mushrooms.

I put all my body into this one this once only. Abracadabra.

Today I am the zoo. Today I am jasmine. I am

the setting. Another I fucked your mother joke. I am the seventh

son of the seventh son not. Remove the trampoline and see

the imprint of our beguine. Pull out each weed and a part of

whatever charade, arcade you think we’ve won. What

premeditates the by-permutation is this totemic trade, what

permeates foolishness is the preamble, nongeneric

Chinese takeout in Tennessee, prison fan mail, transparent

lunacy, amble, you were a hillbilly yesterday and you’re

a hillbilly today, too. Give me back my lost

emergency handkerchief, if it’s really all just

grown to dynamite, I am prickable, pick-pocketable

but there is no price

from outside voices, please
Valerie Hsiung
Definition Then, she

shakes her head. No
the words no

: I want people to see their own…
: misery?
no
: beauty?
She says there is something wrong with this
world, to which the school nurse who has lured her here into the desert, where they await us,

: the words, the words… they are dangerous

for men to men to hear : But they have already heard them

: No… no…

Those men have heard nothing…
It is as if they do not know their own tongues, know their

own languages yet…

: I have seen fearlessnesses cure the most grotesque of illnesses in our
kind
I have seen love do this


: Don’t

come any closer


{ … }


A sick language. A tottering language. Your name— cactus temper, they pinned

her down with a gimlet tool and then collected one by one all of her Hunan freckles.

So let me not erase this bold embossment any further. So let me be with my kidnapped
race.


Approached the blinking car on the shoulder, like I was carrying to somewhere a portable rice steamer…

I want to be brave…
but… it’s hard…

…because I’m scared.


He can’t believe his eyes, he can’t, at the glass meniscus. Recollect all the episodes

you broke your mother’s heart.
I wouldn’t feed you the disease that you are,

translated mother language, tracery of water and holes. But there’s no need for

hyperbole anymore. Let’s force the field, not each other, tangent to tangent, impugn



{ … }


Our dictionary, capable
of self-healing

(In the woods near the rest stop
near to enough of them)

Primer’s fig blood. There was no temptation anymore here in this place because of you…

Pronoun verb verb hot sauce packets epithetical erasure Lead us now oh to the ones who will bury us ultimately in the unmarked ditches of our end

(In the woods I would go to take this bath, to be
born without those words thrown onto us Into the soil I’d go but
I found no way out there none where what I found
instead only injured me in further With that empathy) xy
xo t4 t3 toxicosis the empathy subadrone or shall we say Drop
down menu He tells me to take off all my clothes, to lie down in the ditch there is bark in
my face
We were never warned we were just never to open the cage though all along we
could We could!
from outside voices, please
Valerie Hsiung

Gang-rape on the paper jetty again.

She was My Laika…

Bedsores on the book, tree worms in the book, chair mites inside, it all goes back to that.


From the jetty, you can view the proposal written in the sky…

The pit-bull who has been outlawed from your apartment building is the exploding heart

you cannot hear. This is called a record.


American military psychologists categorize gang rapes into three categories: gang rapes

that happen on foreign soil, gang rapes that happen in your memory, and gang rapes that

make it impossible to hold down a job.


We use the tablet, the cover of our book, as a cutting board.

Indices flake, as a broken printer clotting with paper even as clean sheets of our embers

stream out the auditorium of the window.

Sex, little gashes.

A Genealogy
Howie Good
The place had no name and then it had many. It was a good thing you weren't there. My parents made me take piano. Cable TV hadn't been invented yet. Grown-ups told the same stories over and over, just sometimes using different words. A voice warned against keeping the baby rabbits, hairless, anxious, and blind, that I found abandoned under a big bush. I was six, maybe seven, and the yard was in shadow. We've all lost things. We've all had things torn from us. And not only things. Any instrument not played regularly forgets how it's supposed to sound.
Sad Stories of the Death of Kings
Howie Good
I ask a friend if she can remember the last time that the stars and moon hatched from a golden egg. She doesn't answer straightaway, just tucks a stray comma of hair back behind her ear. Because it's one in the morning, the darkness outside is more like a solid than a liquid or a gas. I'm suddenly really tired of struggling to stay awake. The answer comes later, when I read in the paper that they sliced open a dead whale that had washed ashore and found in its belly plastic cups, plastic bottles, plastic bags, and two flip-flops.
Precarious Rhapsody
Howie Good
There's very little clutter. I can't say it won't ever come back. Tomorrow or the next day everyone may be displaying busts of Roman emperors on shelves and side tables and deer heads on walls. It's what happens when the sick rule the world, people start naming their children after guns: Kalashnikov, Markov, Remington. They feel they have to, especially when the landscape has that gray wintry look. Do I believe the Earth is shaped like a Frisbee? Ah, no, but I'd do anything, absolutely anything, to avoid sitting in a chair with a backrest made of flaming birthday candles.
"Putting You Through Now, Caller." (46)
Christopher Barnes
"Take it good humoured,' I cooed to Shedden.
Buzzards are almost stamped out.
I haven't even catnapped,
Dead-beat, pinched-in, moody.
This muscle is jim-dandy."

"Goons'll do anything for hero-worship.
Keep me pipelined."
"Putting You Through Now, Caller." (47)
Christopher Barnes
"His lustreless kisser, pockmarks, grim suit,
Is a disquieting apparition.
Bay Hotel isn't tone-setting
Without respect to the dinette.
I thumb-twiddled at their bar
Gristing my pluck."

"What's the demands on me?
I'm wide-berthing all thrills."
"Putting You Through Now, Caller." (48)
Christopher Barnes
"What irrelevant caveman was that?
Lips displayed for smooches
Or a pug-face?
I hooked Sheeran onto my Vespa,
Rubbed the gatepost.
Cloud-nine in azure-orbit eyes."

"Fitting treatment monkey brat.
Lug it all home."
"Putting You Through Now, Caller." (49)
Christopher Barnes
"Ringing up gumshoe wasn't an excuse.
A cherub blubbed.
Latte made the deathblow mellow,
Barkes unsheathed a tissue, freshened delicate lips."

"The fee's lavish but neat.
Don't give it heed, precious."
"Putting You Through Now, Caller." (50)
Christopher Barnes
"Quinn's got mewling pride. Globally bald.
'Western' sutured into doorman's formals.
Maiden time he'd been glad-handed as 'Sir!'
Isn't a snapshot you'd bank on."

"Mourned when he's used-up?
Spenders and tippers won't inherit."
Moutabaraj
D. E. Steward
Always the sources, how things are and have been, the seminal sites, the Olduvai Gorges, the great cathedrals and the vast, the enduring cities

"Todo mi amor esta aqui y se has quedado: Pegado a las rosas, al mar, a las montañas" (Inscription beneath the names of the Ejecutados Politivos on el Memorial in Santiago-de-Chile)

"I am what I read, have read, am writing" (John Kinsella)

And what I have lived

Geoffrey Burleson performing Beethoven's Fourth Piano Concerto magnificently, it seems always more vivid than The Emperor

Why, it's a madeline from winter evenings in the late-1940s in that cramped, beautiful living room with the little brick fireplace listening to it on a ten-inch LP

Peculiarly the only good music in the house, a demo LP, the performer and orchestra gone past recall, as gone as Mother and Pete

We were sitting there together as if rising together and humming together with the third movement's sliding harmonic shift

And she must have been happy, together again with her boys, Peter seven, me ten, together in our little railroad house that she'd made livable not long out of a mental institution

Our faces flushed from the open fire, the Beethoven

It was touchingly beautiful in recall

And even then, that evening, already outside looking in and realizing wryly that it was poignant

I knew

From what had defined us being there

That was my family

Then with much of the rest that defined us afterward

All gone for decades

Image of my mother bending down while she was changing my diaper and kissing my penis, happening at least once

Maybe it was in the Russian manner of sucking a male infant's penis to calm him

Perhaps it was someone other than my mother, or maybe at sometime I have watched a baby's penis kissed in a diaper change, or perhaps I imagine the whole thing

And in her 70s she destroyed a fairly good painting a neighbor did of her

And before she died she tore her photo out of her passport

"strange I didn't notice that I saw their voices only" (George Seferis)

And that's the way of the world, and emphatically poignant

Being a witness on the future

Second-decade twenty-first century piano concert evening, Benjamin Grosvenor's amazing programme

Bach's French suite No 5, Brahms's Op 119 pieces, played with Brett Dean's "Hommage à Brahms"; an arrangement of Debussy's "Prelude à l'Après-Midi d'Un Faune"; Berg's Piano Sonata; Ravel's "Gaspard de la Nuit"

In the Americas among the discovered sites, Pedra Furada, Topper, Meadowcroft Rockshelter, Cactus Hill, Monte Verde, Buttermilk Creek, all before 14,000 BP

As if as in entomology, progress seems to have some element of stigmergy

A simultaneity in human affairs

A river rises precipitously and up and down stream people who live near react without being told to

Altogether now

First hand axes and points, now printed circuits that are another kind of chip and knapped in a different way

The continuum

"The little children sprint, squat, squeal and shout" (Clive James)

Loretta Lynn, who is no Patsy Kline, sang lasciviously, "Out of my Head and Back in My Bed" and "You Ain't Woman Enough" with raspy, loud intrusiveness, Country Music cheap, flashy Americana

After the Sutherland Springs church massacre near Waco in November 2017, peculiar tattoo-parlor style quasi-Nordic crosses appeared nearby for the twenty-six killed

"I think some of the things I deal with Hopper probably has dealt with also, since it's somewhat the same environment and I have pretty strong reactions to what this country looks like. It looks pretty dull and spare, and you like this and dislike it and it's very complicated." (Donald Judd)

Scarf beard, or balbo, scruff, fess or full, and frequently a shaved head too of course, and look, there's one with a forehead prayer bruise

"From Trump's White House there now seeps a kind of ignorance mixed with vulgarity and topped with meanness that I find impossible to wash from my skin. I wake up to its oleaginous texture" (Roger Cohen)

What's anything that banal have to do with the fact that Chongqing's urban region is at thirty-seven million

Or for that matter have to do with Lagos, São Paulo, Shanghai or Mumbai

And there are 102 Chinese cities with over a million

Even Riyadh, 30,000 in 1970, is six million now

A long day again at Teotihuacan, the three 400 AD pyramids

Sun, Moon, Feathered Serpent

Then her sexy come-and-get-me hijab moutabaraj

"the frankness of women" (Denise Levertov)

Down on her grinning up at her wonderful smile across her mons

Until gaga or gone

"Funeralized" in current American usage

Quietude and serenity, as in Granville Bantock's Hebridean Symphony, 1913

Homer, Whistler, Marin

Cézanne, Manet

"We talk down animal and talk up machine behaviour. We regard anthropomorphism as a cause of failure in the one case, but make it the criterion success in the other" (Ian Ground)

Desafinado

"Minds like beds always made up" (William Carlos Williams)

And there are urbanists and anti-urbanists

And to be frank about it, "Human uniqueness is a myth inherited from religion, which humanists have recycled into science" (John Gray in The Silence of Animals)

Elizabeth Bishop's and Derek Walcott's allowingly comparable color-drenched paintings, one of whom went out of Nova Scotia and eventually to the tropics, for the other brilliant light anywhere was his querencia

how do you know the moon
is moving: see the dry
casting of the beach worm
   dissolve at the
delicate rising touch:

that is the
   expression of sea level. (A. R. Ammons)


Peruvian probably, maybe Hispanic-Indo family, English fast and perfect but sounds slightly secondary

Mildly indio profile, chestnut-dark hair, full flush olive complexion, small flat turquoise earrings, nonchalantly elegant, young

Moving fast away perfectly erect shoulders squared she could be one of her Inca ancestors passing off on an Andean pre-Colombian footpad highway

"a recent women's questionnaire I was sent including 26 different genders with a blank box if none of the above applied" (Marina Warner)

Drove away in a black Prius: skinny, tallish, horn-rim glasses, hair in a chignon and a mild topknot, dark brown full beard with mustache well-kept, cotton print top, flat-chested, sheer black wraparound skirt, shaved legs, 3/4inch wedgies, asexual body language, very Princeton

Cinecittá

When Kingsley Amis was at Princeton for a while in the late 1950s, one vacation working a college paper in Firestone Library passed by his office door just as Martin, about ten then, was escaping from being admonished about something by his father

Princeton University library is like that, once in the lower stacks in the early 1980s face to face with Brooke Shields in an accidental mirada fuerte situation, we didn't speak

Next time south of the Alps go way down, Apulia, Basilicata, to that archeological site, explored only in 1970, the paintings astratti from 3900 BC in la grotta on Capo d'Otranto near Puerto Badisio on la litoraea Salentina

At a fall 1988 rendezvous at Wise Men Fish Here Gotham Book Mart for a Conjunctions photo out on the sidewalk, John Ashbery, swayingly drunk, came on to me unpleasantly, leaning in, hand on my arm, lonely-gay reaching out

The rough jumble of loneliness and gender

Taught to listen, taught to acquiesce, taught to please

Speak only when spoken to

"When you're a little girl and you look in an aquarium and you see the fish doing this and that you don't criticize and say they should be going something else" (Christina Stead)

And always, if you are not a median man, the sinister threat of sexual assault, perpetual in circumstance

"young women can't be seen when there's no escape —" (John Kinsella)

Lift with the relaxing euphoria of Sibelius's First

Thinking of the horror of Frederick Douglas's fight as a teenager in 1833 with the slave breaker Edward Covey in Talbot County Maryland

We still have sexual breakers, those of teenage runaways, molesters of all sorts and pimps

For everyone on the planet to have a good life would mean consuming resources at up to six times the sustainable rate, and defining "good life" and "sustainable" differently does not in the least ameliorate that stark truth

Another fine friend gone, Yu Ding-wei, when he died last fall I came back and listened to the see-sawing fourth movement of Sibelius's Fifth

"In the middest of lyfe we be in death" ("Buriall," The Book of Common Prayer, 1549)

Buck Rogers
Herbert Dittersdorf
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Buck Rogers and the Tiger-Man from Mars
Herbert Dittersdorf
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Hamburger Poem
Herbert Dittersdorf
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Launch
Herbert Dittersdorf
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Root Canal
Herbert Dittersdorf
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Haiku #1
Scott Helmes and Jesse Freeman
Haiku #2
Scott Helmes and Steve Sorin
Haiku #3
Scott Helmes and Tom Cassidy
Letter Collage
Andrew Topel
Letter Collage
Andrew Topel
Letter Collage
Andrew Topel
Letter Collage
Andrew Topel
Le Point du Jour 1
Christian ALLE
Le Point du Jour 2
Christian ALLE
Le Point du Jour 3
Christian ALLE
Le Point du Jour 4
Christian ALLE
Multi-Adventure
Matthew Klane
Orthodox
Matthew Klane
Table of Contents
Matthew Klane
Found Writing Processed
Michael Brandonisio
Weather-beaten Newspaper Wedged Between Two Planks of a Wooden Bench
Michael Brandonisio
Secret Blood machine
Michael Brandonisio
What Could Remain Green Without You
Bill Wolak
Mysterious Circumstances
Bill Wolak
Stirred by an Irresistible Warmth
Bill Wolak
The Smile of Silk
Bill Wolak
from Auto-Postcards
Seth Copeland
from Auto-Postcards
Seth Copeland
from Auto-Postcards
Seth Copeland
from Auto-Postcards
Seth Copeland
Tape Sample 17
Jeff Bagato
Tape Sample 18
Jeff Bagato
Tape Sample 19
Jeff Bagato
Tape Sample 20
Jeff Bagato
Cosmos 1
Kon Markogiannis
Cosmos 2
Kon Markogiannis
Cosmos 5
Kon Markogiannis
Cosmos 8
Kon Markogiannis
Cosmos 9
Kon Markogiannis
The Shimmering Damage of Cherokee Road Kill
Gretchen Primack

Celia Bland, Cherokee Road Kill, Dr. Cicero Books, 2018

"There was the first crash," begins Celia Bland's third collection—such a simple way to tell us that there are many crashes to come. In the Cherokee, North Carolina, of the 1970's, where Bland grew up and where she sets Cherokee Road Kill, life can feel cheap, a sad wisp of smoke left over from some bonfire heyday. Now, instead of proud Native warriors, we have boys who flip Jeeps and end up "scotch-taped" to a buckboard, lungs inflated with a bicycle pump.

Entropy in this world is so palpable you can taste it. The poems struggle with worth, the value of crumbling people in a crumbling region. Many of these poems are observational, a speaker casting a cool and careful eye, unflinching but not editorializing. The observational stance works well here because it obscures agency; the damage feels fated, just as the people in these poems—teens, family members, the "I" herself—feel buffeted by these fates. Fate flips Kenny Arrowhead's car; a dream compels the speaker's mother to buy a trailer out of the want ads.

Then, though, the reader will be jolted by the intimacy of a line. In the midst of description of "teen king" Stanely's wired-shut jaw, his "pursed lips a bottle cap/about to pop," for instance, Stanley thinks, "[B]ut who holds on to me?/Who is brave enough to let me go?" In "Brave," a boy remembers his mother's whisper and "her fingers interlacing/the softest plate/of skull." Such an intimate portrayal of the potential for damage.

Never in the midst of this world of disorder is the poems' music given short shrift. Each piece is infused with it. "Call it cash crop and cuss its shag-clotted, combed, carded, and shredded/like Carolina barbeque," Bland writes. Later in the collection, a boy is

(m)aybe snapping bloodroot to sip red sap
or sucking a redbone cottonmouth
flat as a dollar bill.

Still later:
A hood crimped like crust, head
lights, windshield bead-
ing the wipers
with frost.

That attention to beauty in the language spills over into the world it's describing, so that this world of despair still shimmers. The reader lingers in the state of decay and somehow finds it achingly beautiful, like the moldy old house the speaker inherits along with these memories.

Even the rare cleaner, greener memories feel like they're set in a context of decay. Witness some of the loveliest lines in the book, the speaker's memory of a boy named Eugene:

You, Gene, a stalk green from the soft earth, graduating
white as a scallion. Crisp. A blossom trumpet of lily, the
orange stain, the freckling stamen.

He's compared to something so fleeting: a silent, fragile trumpet ready to curl its petals. From so many angles, Cherokee feels like a place of loss.

All of this is packed into the book's first half, setting the stage for its second and final section, which tunnels into one particular loss: Louise, "whose hair hung in two halves like honey," a young woman whose fate is sealed when she volunteers to teach at a local prison. When he is released, one of her students shows up at the Christian bookstore where Louise works. The affair feels as fated, and is as deadly, as so much described in Section I's poems. When the two first meet in the prison classroom, "the thread of her raveled," and it continues to until her death.

This section appeals to my love of narrative, but it also allows for a more lingering look at the time and place Bland is illuminating in Cherokee Road Kill. The first section sets up the atmosphere for this drama, so that when we meet Louise, we understand her near-hopeless context, the water crashing "unseen over the falls" as she "leans into the black air." Her life is cheapened the way the others were—which is not to say she doesn't struggle. But her lover—and fate—win. And the entropy is still everywhere, even the tin cans in a road ditch "thinning to brittle bitterness."

The section's length allows for a worthy examination of the place where Louise and her unnamed lover meet. The prison is described in detail—the color of the chairs where Louise waits for clearance, the quality of the glass that divides her from prison staff on her way to the school wing. One poem, "Red is In/White is Out," outlines in a broken, confused, illogical structure the broken, confused, illogical rules that govern correctional facilities. The form not only mirrors that content, it also illuminates the lure of the forbidden tangled there: "Denim women Inmates NOTICE Cleavage Swag Bags in /Library….East Wing angel Wing west No Green Pants women denim/Contraband Cell…."

The section also allows examination of Louise's motivation for ending her pregnancy. "Before the Abortion" defies the fateful atmosphere of most of the book; in it, Louise is decisive, making her own life paramount rather than the one "quickening" inside her:

Infinite change, without her consent
but with her body's
collusion.

…her blood, pumping double,
said yep and yep.
Meanwhile, self,
struggling to resurface,
pushed open the porch
door into the orchard.

…She would swallow her.

In the end, Louise's decisiveness leads to her death, as her lover cannot abide her decision—nor, perhaps, her ability and desire to make a decision for herself at all. She is sacrificed to the will of this man, a knot of rage and emptiness, "a ghostly revenant of the vengeance wreaked on some kid/ brave enough to test him." We feel in those later poems that he has forced her back into an atmosphere ruled by fate.

The second section does with patience what the first does with urgency: Lures us into this world of decay and buffeting. We may not want to live there, and I doubt Bland is sorry she bucked the fates and left, either. But through her deft poetic hand, it is a luminous place to visit.

Contributors' Notes

Christian ALLE is a painter, collagist and photographer, and has been active in mail art networks since the 1990's. He is the publisher and animator of Nada Zero. He lives near Cherbourg, a small seaside resort in Normandy, France.

Marcia Arrieta's recent poetry collections include perimeter homespun (BlazeVOX 2019) and vestiges (Dancing Girl 2019). Her work appears in Otoliths, Marsh Hawk, Angel City, Anastamos, Helen, Whiskey Island, Eratio, Barrow Street, Empty Mirror, So to Speak, Conjunctions Online, Columbia Journal, and Hobart, among others. She edits and publishes Indefinite Space, a poetry/art journal.

Jeff Bagato is a multi-media artist living near Washington, DC. He produces poetry and prose as well as electronic music and glitch video. Some of his poetry and visuals have appeared in 3AM, Angry Old Man, BlazeVOX, Empty Mirror, Futures Trading, Otoliths, The New Post-Literate, Utsanga, and Word For/Word. Some short fiction has appeared in Danse Macabre and Future Cactus. He has published nineteen books, all available through the usual online markets, including Savage Magic (poetry) and Computing Angels (fiction). A blog about his writing and publishing efforts can be found at jeffbagato.com.

Christopher Barnes co-edits the poetry magazine Interpoetry. His reviews and criticism have appeared in Poetry Scotland, Jacket Magazine, Peel, and Combustus. He has given readings in numerous venues, including Waterstones Bookshop, Newcastle's Morden Tower, and the Proudwords lesbian and gay writing festival. His poetry collection LOVEBITES was published by Chanticleer Press in 2005. He lives in Newcastle, UK.

Michael Brandonisio is a creative writer, photographer and visual artist. Besides poetry, he has written two short one-act plays and has published fiction under his own name and also using the pen name Linc Madison. His work has appeared in print and on the web in various journals such as Angry Old Man, Word For/Word, Otoliths, Centrifuge, Small Po[r]tions, Eunoia Review., and elsewhere.

Active correspondence artist and poet Tom Cassidy, co-founder of ‘70s' avant performance troupe The Impossibilists, is currently on the boards of Rain Taxi and Cheap Theatre, both based in Minneapolis near Tom and the 15,000 books he purchased in one day.

Joel Chace has published work in print and electronic magazines such as The Tip of the Knife, Counterexample Poetics, Eratio, Otoliths, Infinity's Kitchen, and Jacket. Most recent collections include Sharpsburg, from Cy Gist Press, Blake's Tree, from Blue & Yellow Dog Press, Whole Cloth, from Avantacular Press, Red Power, from Quarter After Press, Kansoz, from Knives, Forks, and Spoons Press, Web Too, from Tonerworks, War, and After, from BlazeVOX [books], Scorpions, from Unlikely Books, and Humors, from Paloma Press.

Seth Copeland's work is recent & scheduled in Theta Wave, ctrl + v, Heavy Feather Review, Dream Pop, and Paint Bucket. Originally from Oklahoma, he currently studies in Milwaukee. He is the founding editor of petrichor. His twitter handle is @SethTCopeland.

Darren Demaree's poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines and journals, including Hotel Amerika, Diode, North American Review, New Letters, Diagram, and the Colorado Review. He is the author of eleven poetry collections, most recently Emily As Sometimes the Forest Wants the Fire (Harpoon Book, 2019). He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.

Herbert Dittersdorf is a poet, and an employee at a psychiatric facility working in Cleveland, OH. He has previously been published in Kenyon College's literary magazine, HIKA.

Mark DuCharme's recent books of poetry include We, the Monstrous: Script for an Unrealizable Film (The Operating System, 2018), The Unfinished: Books I-VI (BlazeVox, 2013) and Answer (BlazeVox, 2011). Counter Fluencies 1-20 appeared as part of the print journal The Lune (2017), and other work is recent or forthcoming in Caliban Online, Colorado Review, Dispatches from the Poetry Wars, Ethel, Human Repair Kit, Monday Night, New American Writing, Unlikely Stories, and Noon: An Anthology of Short Poems (Isobar Press: due 2019). He lives in Boulder, Colorado.

Jesse Freeman is long time visual artist and poet living and working in New Orleans. She and Scott Helmes have collaborated on numerous publications and visual poems, with her viusalization of the human figure and face often central to the finished work.

Howie Good is the author of The Titanic Sails at Dawn (Alien Buddha Press, 2019).

Adam Greenberg's poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming from Best American Experimental, The Brooklyn Rail, Tagvverk, Columbia Poetry Review, and Witness, among others. His translations of the work of Mexican poet Carla Faesler have appeared in Chicago Review, Asymptote, Erizo, and Anomaly. He recently graduated from Brown University with an MFA in poetry, and lives in Washington, DC where he teaches writing.

Scott Helmes is a poet, book artist, writer, artist, architect and photographer. His experimental poetry has been collected, published and exhibited worldwide for over 40 years. Books published in 2019 include Recents, Redfox Press, Ireland (2019), and Magazine The Cut-Up Asemics, Asemic Press, 2019, Minneapolis, MN. Book Art work includes being an invited exhibitor to: Wallpaper An Exhibition of Altered Books, Traffic Zone Gallery, July, 2018, Minneapolis, MN. Exhibitor and Presenter, Art of Language: the Synergy of Text and Image, Perlman Teaching Museum, Carleton College, MN, April 2019. His work is also included in A History of Visual Text Arts, Karl Kempton, and Synapse International Anthology. His studio is located in Minneapolis, MN, USA.

Valerie Hsiung is the author of three full-length poetry collections, the latest of which is her e f g (Action Books). Individual poems can be found or are forthcoming in The Nation, The Believer, Tammy, Gramma, So & So Magazine, Denver Quarterly, Pinwheel, PEN Poetry Series, American Letters & Commentary, Berkeley Poetry Review, Poetry Northwest, TAGVVERK, No Dear Magazine, and beyond. The winner of the 2019 Kay Murphy Prize judged by Danielle Pafunda, she has performed her little poetry theater at Treefort Music Festival, DC Arts Center, Common Area Maintenance, Leon Gallery, Poetic Research Bureau, Rhizome, Shapeshifter Lab, and The Silent Barn. Born and raised in southern Ohio by Chinese-Taiwanese immigrants, Hsiung is nowadays based out of New York.

Matthew Klane is co-editor at Flim Forum Press. His books include Canyons (w/ James Belflower, Flim Forum, 2016), Che (Stockport Flats, 2013) and B (Stockport Flats, 2008). An e-chapbook from Of the Day is online at Delete Press and an e-book My is online at Fence Digital. New collages are online or forthcoming from ctrl + v, Gasher, and Fugue. He currently lives and writes in Albany, NY, where he curates the REV Poetry Series, and teaches at Russell Sage College.

Tony Mancus is the author of a handful of chapbooks including Apologies (Reality Beach), subject position (Magnificent Field), Bye Sea (Tree Light Books), and City Country (Seattle Review). He lives with his wife and son and three yappy cats in Colorado, and serves as chapbook editor for Barrelhouse.

Kon Markogiannis is an experimental photographer-collage artist-visual poet-independent researcher with an interest in themes such as memory, mortality, spirituality, the human condition, the exploration of the human psyche and the evolution of consciousness. He embraces the indexical qualities of photography and its immediate impact on the viewer, but what he is mainly concerned with are the ways "reality" can be transformed. By manipulating the photographic medium and/or combining it with other media he is able to develop a personal and simultaneously transpersonal language which negotiates between subjective art and the photographic document. He sees his work as a kind of weapon against the ephemeral or, as Vilém Flusser would say, a "hunt for new states of things" (Towards a Philosophy of Photography). Kon has been exhibiting his art for many years (mainly in Greece and the UK) and his work has been featured in various books, journals and magazines. His university studies include a BA in Visual Communication Design, an MA in Photography and a Doctorate in Fine Art. He currently lives and works in Thessaloniki, Greece. His website is at konmark.com. He blogs at konmark.blogspot.com.

Steve Potter's writing has appeared in extant publications such as Blazevox, Galatea Resurrects, Marginalia, Pacific Rim Review of Books, and the Golden Handcuffs Review anthology A Screw in the Shoe, as well as in long gone and sorely missed publications such as 3rd Bed, Arson, Arthur, Nimble Jill Uphill, and Pindeldyboz. He lives in the vastly overpriced city of Seattle and writes about books and literature at bookfreak.us.

Gretchen Primack is the author of Visiting Days (Willow Books, Editors Select Series 2019), set in a maximum-security men's prison, as well as two other poetry collections: Kind (Post-Traumatic Press), which explores the dynamic between humans and (other) animals, and Doris' Red Spaces (Mayapple Press). She also co-wrote, with Jenny Brown, The Lucky Ones: My Passionate Fight for Farm Animals (Penguin Avery). Her poems have appeared in The Paris Review, Prairie Schooner, FIELD, Ploughshares, Poet Lore, and other journals. Primack has administrated and taught with college programs in prison for many years, and she moonlights at an indie bookstore in Woodstock, NY.

Steve Sorin currently lives in Durham, NC and practices rheumatology for a living. He has also enjoyed photography for over 40 years, and has, in the past, done his own silver gelatin printing. More recently he has switched over to digital color media. He particularly enjoys exploring how a photograph can capture what the eye cannot, and has done a large series of double exposures of trees, rotating the camera between exposures to create a swirling or vibrating motion in a "still" image. Scott Helmes has added yet another layer to this by superimposing his visual haiku. The composite creates a synthesis of visual poetry and imagined sound.

D. E. Steward never has had a pedestrian job since college, and has nearly a thousand credits and Chroma One through Five (Archae Editions, Brooklyn, 2018).

Barbara Tomash is the author of four books of poetry: PRE- (Black Radish Books 2018), Arboreal (Apogee 2014), The Secret of White (Spuyten Duyvil 2009), and Flying in Water, winner of the 2005 Winnow First Poetry Award. An earlier version of PRE- was a finalist for the Colorado Prize and the Rescue Press Black Box Poetry Prize. Before her creative interests turned her toward writing she worked extensively as a multimedia artist. Her poems have appeared in Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Web Conjunctions, New American Writing, Verse, VOLT, OmniVerse, and numerous other journals. She lives in Berkeley, California, and teaches in the Creative Writing Department at San Francisco State University.

Andrew Topel is currently editing RENEGADE, an anthology of international language arts. He posts solo & collaborative work at the blog avantacular.blogspot.com/.

Bill Wolak has just published his fifteenth book of poetry entitled The Nakedness Defense with Ekstasis Editions. His collages have appeared recently in Naked in New Hope 2018, The 2019 Seattle Erotic Art Festival, Poetic Illusion, The Riverside Gallery, Hackensack, NJ, the 2019 Dirty Show in Detroit, the 2018 Rochester Erotic Arts Festival, and the 2018 Montreal Erotic Art Festival.

Masthead
Word For/ Word is seeking poetry, prose, poetics, criticism, reviews, and visuals for upcoming issues. We read submissions year-round, but issue #35 is scheduled for July 2020. Please direct queries and submissions to:

Word For/ Word
c/o Jonathan Minton
546 Center Avenue
Weston, WV 26452

Submissions should be a reasonable length (i.e., 3 to 6 poems, or prose between 50 and 2000 words) and include a biographical note and publication history (or at least a friendly introduction), plus an SASE with appropriate postage for a reply. A brief statement regarding the process, praxis or parole of the submitted work is encouraged, but not required. Please allow one to three months for a response. We will consider simultaneous submissions, but please let us know if any portion of it is accepted elsewhere. We do not consider previously published work.

Email queries and submissions may be sent to: editors@wordforword.info.

Email submissions should be attached as a single .doc, .rtf, .pdf or .txt file. Visuals should be attached individually as .jpg, .png, .gif, or .bmp files. Please include the word "submission" in the subject line of your email.

Word For/ Word acquires exclusive first-time printing rights (online or otherwise) for all published works, which are also archived online and may be featured in special print editions of Word For/Word. All other rights revert to the authors after publication in Word For/ Word; however we ask that Word For/ Word is acknowledged if the work is republished elsewhere.

Word For/ Word is open to all types of poetry, prose and visual art, but prefers innovative and post-avant work with an astute awareness of the materials, rhythms, trajectories and emerging forms of the contemporary. Word For/ Word is published biannually.

Jonathan Minton, Editor

ISSN 2159-8061

Logo and graphic design by Dolton Richards

Cover art adapted from work by Herbert Dittersdorf (adapted from the cover of Amazing Stories, August, 1928)
Archive of Contributors
  • a
  • Eric Abbott: Issue 11
  • Scott Abels: Issue 16
  • Nola Accili: Issue 14
  • Carrie Olivia Adams: Issue 13
  • Michael Aird: Issue 14
  • Kismet Al-Hussaini: Issue 13
  • Christian ALLE: Issue 34
  • William Allegrezza: Issues 1, 5, 8
  • Reed Altemus: Issue 16
  • Emily Anderson: Issue 14
  • Hanna Andrews: Issue 14
  • Jim Andrews: Issues 9, 13, 23, 30, 32
  • Andrés Anwandter: Issue 12
  • Aaron Anstett: Issue 9
  • Rosaire Appel: Issue 33
  • Francesco Aprile: Issue 23, 27
  • Sacha Archer: Issue 30
  • Ark Codex: Issue 19
  • Marcia Arrieta: Issues 11, 15, 29, 34
  • Guido Arroyo: Issue 12
  • Robyn Art: Issues 20, 24, 26, 30, 33
  • Cynthia Arrieu-King: Issues 9, 11, 14
  • b
  • Geoffrey Babbitt: Issue 21
  • Petra Backonja: Issues 4, 8, 9, 16
  • Jeff Bagato: Issues 31, 32, 34
  • Aditya Bahl: Issue 26
  • Cristiana Baik: Issue 14
  • Carlyle Baker: Issues 13, 16, 22, 28
  • Martín Bakero: Issue 12
  • Devon Balwit: Issue 29
  • Josely Vianna Baptista: Issue 10
  • Elizabeth H. Barbato: Issue 14
  • Thomas Basbøll: Issue 9
  • Cherise Bacalski: Issue 16
  • Christopher Barnes: Issue 34
  • Emileigh Barnes: Issue 19
  • Gary Barwin: Issue 28
  • Michael Basinski: Issues 3, 7, 15, 22, 30
  • Kathryn T.S. Bass: Issue 5
  • Keith Baughman: Issue 5
  • Angela Bayout: Issue 23
  • Dan Beachy-Quick: Issue 1
  • derek beaulieu: Issue 12
  • Hugh Behm-Steinberg: Issue 32
  • Jeremy Behreandt: Issue 17
  • Guy Beining: Issue 3
  • Lana Bella: Issue 30
  • C. Mehrl Bennett: Issues 12, 13
  • John M. Bennett: Issues 5, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 17, 18, 26, 27
  • Wes Benson: Issue 20
  • Marta Bentley : Issue 10
  • Scott Bentley : Issue 10
  • Jim Berger: Issue 18
  • David Berridge: Issue 7
  • Erin M. Bertram: Issue 11
  • József Bíró: Issue 32
  • CL Bledsoe: Issue 32
  • Anne Blonstein: Issues 9, 16
  • John Bloomberg-Rissman: Issue 23
  • Megan Boatright: Issue 17
  • Jerrod E. Bohn: Issue 22
  • Gherardo Bortolotti: Issue 10
  • Daniel Borzutzky: Issue 8
  • Tim Botta: Issue 9
  • David Braden: Issue 1
  • Adam Braffman: Issue 20
  • Michael Brandonisio: Issues 18, 28, 34
  • Andrew Brenza: Issue 23, 29, 32, 33
  • Anamaría Briede: Issue 12
  • Melissa Broder: Issue 17
  • Michael Broder: Issue 9, 27
  • Heath Brougher: Issue 28
  • Keith Nathan Brown: Issue 15
  • Tomás Browne: Issue 12
  • Annah Browning: Issue 19
  • Sommer Browning: Issue 12
  • Thierry Brunet: Issue 13
  • Anhvu Buchanan: Issue 18
  • Sabine Buchet: Issue 30
  • Trina Burke: Issue 15
  • Sean Burn: Issue 18
  • Avery E. D. Burns: Issue 7
  • Joshua Butts: Issues 15, 16
  • John Byrum: Issue 4
  • c
  • Kenneth M Cale: Issue 33
  • Marina Camboni: Issue 16
  • Isabel Sobral Campos: Issue 28
  • Billy Cancel: Issue 29
  • Mike Cannell: Issue 14
  • James Capozzi: Issues 16, 22, 32
  • Jenna Cardinale: Issues 6, 31
  • Ric Carfagna: Issue 2
  • Sue Carnahan: Issue 12
  • C. S. Carrier: Issues 6, 15
  • Allison Carter: Issue 14
  • Autumn Carter: Issue 14
  • Tyler Carter: Issues 10, 33
  • Chris Caruso: Issue 33
  • Christophe Casamassima: Issue 4
  • Mario José Cervantes: Issues 15, 17, 32
  • Joel Chace: Issues 2, 20, 23, 29, 31, 34
  • Geneva Chao: Issue 6
  • Mike Chasar: Issues 5, 9
  • Liz Chereskin: Issue 29
  • David-Baptiste Chirot: Issues 11, 13
  • Chad Chmielowicz: Issue 5
  • Julie Choffel: Issue 7
  • Peter Ciccariello: Issues 11, 22
  • Robin Clarke: Issue 20
  • Jackie Clark: Issue 16
  • Adam Clay: Issue 9
  • Julia Cohen: Issue 8
  • Jessica Comola: Issue 25
  • Emmitt Conklin: Issue 32
  • Mary Coons: Issue 32
  • Matthew Cooperman: Issue 27
  • Brooklyn Copeland: Issues 15
  • K.R. Copeland: Issue 25, 34
  • William Cordeiro: Issues 19, 21
  • Martin Corless-Smith: Issue 1
  • John Cotter: Issue 11
  • Clayton A. Couch: Issues 5, 10
  • Bruce Covey: Issue 7
  • Kathryn Cowles: Issue 17
  • John Crouse: Issues 3, 7
  • Jeff Crouch: Issue 15, 28
  • Felipe Cussen: Issue 12
  • d
  • Steve Dalachinsky: Issue 8
  • Adam Dalva: Issue 25
  • Catherine Daly: Issues 3, 10
  • Kristina Marie Darling: Issues 19, 27, 29
  • Arkava Das: Issues 30, 32
  • Drew B. David: Issue 32
  • Ian Davisson: Issue 14
  • Holly Day: Issue 25
  • Malcolm de Chazal: Issue 10
  • Darren Demaree: Issues 30, 32, 34
  • Richard Deming: Issue 1
  • Jesse DeLong: Issues 20, 32
  • Shira Dentz: Issue 19
  • Tom Derung: Issue 16
  • Sally Deskins : Issue 26
  • David Detrich: Issue 17
  • Dot Devota: Issue 20
  • Herbert Dittersdorf: Issue 34
  • Justin Dodd: Issue 11
  • Elizabeth Dooher: Issue 21
  • John Mercuri Dooley: Issue 8
  • David Doran: Issue 13
  • Dan Dorman: Issue 30
  • Kate Dougherty: Issue 18
  • Mark Dow: Issues 9, 26, 30, 33
  • Buck Downs: Issue 15
  • Julie Doxsee: Issue 10
  • Ben Doyle: Issue 12
  • Mark DuCharme: Issues 5, 15, 26, 31, 34
  • Donald Dunbar: Issue 16
  • Rachel Blau DuPlessis: Issue 16
  • Amit Dwibedy: Issue 4
  • e
  • Jason Earls: Issue 4
  • Tim Earley: Issue 13
  • Rebecca Eddy: Issues 18, 30
  • K.S. Ernst: Issue 15
  • Alethea Eason: Issue 7
  • Alison Eastley: Issue 6
  • Christopher Eaton: Issue 13
  • Estela Eaton: Issue 8
  • Cassandra Eddington: Issue 23
  • Michael Tod Edgerton: Issue 9
  • kari edwards: Issues 4, 10
  • Cathy Eisenhower: Issue 5
  • Stephanie Countiss Emens: Issue 11
  • Stephen Emmerson: Issue 26
  • Jill Alexander Essbaum: Issue 13
  • Anna Eyre: Issue 21
  • f
  • Adam Fagin: Issue 21
  • Betsy Fagin: Issue 7
  • Elisabetta Falanga: Issue 23
  • Noah Falck: Issue 11
  • Rebecca Farivar: Issues 21, 31
  • Raymond Farr: Issues 3, 5, 12 , 30, 32
  • Michael Farrell: Issue 5
  • David Felix: Issues 28, 32
  • Adam Fieled: Issues 9, 11, 17
  • Luc Fierens: Issues 3, 23, 33
  • Jennifer Firestone: Issue 28
  • Steve Finbow: Issue 8
  • Thomas Fink: Issues 5, 11
  • Ian Finch: Issue 31
  • Connor Fisher: Issue 28
  • Sandy Florian: Issue 8
  • Kurt Folch: Issue 13
  • Alessia Folcio: Issue 10
  • Craig Foltz: Issue 17, 28
  • Gregorio Fontén: Issue 12
  • Hugh Fox: Issue 17
  • Skip Fox: Issue 6
  • Richard Froude: Issue 13
  • Jason Fraley: Issue 11
  • Andy Frazee: Issue 14
  • Vernon Frazer: Issues 2, 6, 11
  • Emily Kendal Frey: Issues 13, 16
  • Jennifer Frota: Issue 10
  • Logan Fry: Issue 29
  • g
  • Matt Gagnon: Issue 14
  • Shamala Gallagher: Issue 21
  • John Gallaher 27
  • Mitchell Garrard: Issue 25
  • Karen Garthe: Issue 2
  • Trina Gaynon: Issue 11
  • Crane Giamo: Issue 16
  • Crystal Gibbins: Issue 19
  • Marco Giovenale: Issues 10, 23, 27, 31
  • Jim Goar: Issue 11
  • Adam Golaski: Issues 8, 11, 12, 27, 33
  • Aida Goldfard: Issue 12
  • Monica Gomery: Issue 18
  • Howie Good: Issue 34
  • Noah Eli Gordon: Issues 2, 4, 5, 9, 11, 31
  • Anne Gorrick: Issues 8, 21, 23, 27, 30, 33
  • Joshua Gottlieb-Miller: Issue 25
  • Andrew Grace: Issue 12
  • Garth Graeper: Issue 12
  • Evan Gray: Issue 30
  • Eryn Green: Issues 12, 21
  • Adam Greenberg: Issue 34
  • Michelle Greenblatt: Issues 9, 25
  • Kate Greenstreet: Issue 9
  • Arpine Konyalian Grenier: Issues 15, 23, 27, 30, 31, 32
  • Nicholas Grider: Issues 8, 26
  • Martín Gubbins: Issue 12
  • Carolyn Guinzio: Issue 33
  • Guy-Vincent: Issue 22
  • h
  • David Hadbawnik: Issue 33
  • Alan Halsey: Issues 8, 13
  • Annalynn Hammond: Issue 7
  • Daniel Y. Harris: Issues 31, 32, 33
  • Jeff Harrison: Issues 3, 19, 24, 27, 30, 32
  • Kenneth E. Harrison, Jr.: Issue 8
  • Roberto Harrison: Issue 15
  • Libby Hart: Issue 24
  • Nathan Hauke: Issue 9
  • Anthony Hawley: Issue 6
  • Kristin Hayter: Issue 15
  • Dustin Hellberg: Issues 8, 28
  • Scott Helmes: Issues 4, 7, 11, 15, 22, 27, 30, 34
  • Derek Henderson : Issues 10, 12, 19
  • Victoria Henry: Issue 20
  • Brandi Katherine Herrera: Issue 22
  • Tom Hibbard: Issues 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 12, 13, 14, 15, 18, 21, 22, 27, 33
  • Katie Hibner: Issue 27
  • August Higland: Issue 7
  • Elizabyth A. Hiscox: Issue 15
  • Crag Hill: Issues 12, 16
  • Janis Butler Holm: Issue 30
  • W. Scott Howard: Issues 9, 11, 14, 22, 27, 29, 32, 33
  • Brian Howe: Issue 10
  • Erika Howsare: Issue 8
  • Valerie Hsiung: Issue 34
  • Sandra Huber: Issues 10, 11
  • Angela Hume: Issue 17
  • Geof Huth: Issues 9, 12
  • i
  • Brenda Iijima: Issue 3
  • Kara Imre: Issue 18
  • Kate Ingold: Issue 17
  • j
  • Martin Jackson: Issue 13
  • Jacklyn Janeksela: Issue 28
  • Jessie Janeshek: Issue 22
  • Andrew Jecklin: Issue 2
  • Becca Jensen: Issue 17
  • k
  • Matthew Johnstone: Issue 25
  • George Kalamaras: Issues 10, 13, 23, 29
  • Julius Kalamarz: Issue 11
  • Genevieve Kaplan: Issues 11, 21
  • Josef Kaplan: Issue 16
  • Mary Kasimor: Issues 3, 6, 23, 32
  • Debra Kaufman: Issue 15
  • Aby Kaupang: Issue 14
  • W.B. Keckler: Issue 5
  • Michael Keenan: Issue 24
  • Robert Keith: Issue 31
  • Karl Kempton: Issues 14, 16, 18
  • Joseph Keppler: Issue 23
  • Jukka-Pekka Kervinen: Issues 1, 6, 8, 10
  • Amy King: Issue 5
  • Stephen Kirbach: Issue 4
  • Matthew Klane: Issues 7, 9, 15, 17, 22, 30, 33, 34
  • J.I. Kleinberg: Issue 30
  • Alyse Knorr: Issue 33
  • Adriána Kóbor: Issue 32
  • Laura Kochman: Issue 18
  • Amy Kohut: Issues 7, 18
  • Christopher Kondrich: Issue 23
  • Irene Koronas: Issue 33
  • Richard Kostelanetz: Issue 3
  • Kristin Kostick: Issue 21
  • Breonna Krafft: Issue 16
  • Joshua Kryah: Issue 19
  • Donna Kuhn: Issues 6, 12
  • l
  • Tyler Cain Lacy: Issue 25
  • Lily Ladewig: Issue 18
  • Ray Lam: Issue 14
  • Dorothee Lang: Issue 19
  • David Laskowski: Issue 8
  • Dorothea Lasky: Issues 4, 12
  • Jan Lauwereyns: Issue 12
  • Kent Leatham: Issue 32
  • Gracie Leavitt: Issue 18
  • Sueyeun Juliette Lee: Issue 5
  • Jim Leftwich: Issues 2, 3, 5, 10, 15, 26
  • Danika Stegeman LeMay: Issue 30
  • Jon Leon: Issues 8, 10
  • Michael Leong: Issue 21
  • Karen Lepri: Issue 18
  • erica lewis: Issue 16
  • Susan Lewis: Issue 24
  • Jane Lewty: Issue 20
  • Lauren Levin: Issue 10
  • Chad Lietz: Issue 14
  • Lisa Lightsey: Issue 14
  • A. J. Patrick Liszkiewicz: Issues 13, 14, 18
  • Charles Lock: Issue 16
  • Solamito Luigino: Issue 12
  • Carlos Luis: Issue 6
  • Adrian Lurssen: Issues 13, 33
  • Claire Lux: Issue 7
  • John Lowther: Issues 5, 26, 29
  • Brian Lucas: Issues 8, 19
  • m
  • Aaron McCollough: Issues 1, 2, 9
  • Paul McCormick: Issue 8
  • Jennifer MacKenzie: Issue 22
  • Kevin McLellan: Issue 21
  • Anthony Madrid: Issue 17
  • Julia Madsen: Issue 29
  • Kristin Maffei: Issue 26
  • Chris Major: Issue 14
  • Gwyn McVay: Issue 2
  • Joseph Mains: Issue 21
  • Diana Magallón: Issues 7, 9, 14 ,15, 20, 24, 28, 33
  • Bjørn Magnhildøen: Issue 13
  • Youdhisthir Maharjan: Issue 24
  • Tony Mancus: Issues 22, 31, 34
  • Kon Markogiannis: Issue 34
  • Rodrigo Mardones: Issue 12
  • Justin Marks: Issues 9, 11
  • Camille Martin: Issues 3, 6
  • J. Michael Martinez: Issue 8
  • Stephanie Martz: Issue 16
  • Kaz Maslanka: Issue 13
  • Liz Mastrangelo: Issue 21
  • Alexandra Mattraw: Issues 16, 19
  • Raphael P. Maurice: Issue 30
  • Kristi Maxwell: Issue 11
  • Rachel May: Issue 19
  • David Meltzer: Issue 12
  • Rebecca Mertz: Issue 17
  • Mez: Issue 13
  • Giuliano Mesa: Issue 10
  • Sara Michas-Martin: Issue 18
  • Sandra Miller: Issue 12
  • Teresa K. Miller: Issue 14
  • Jonathan Minton: Issue 10
  • Stan Mir: Issues 7, 12
  • J. Michael Mollohan: Issue 12
  • Jørgen Herman Monrad: Issue 16
  • Luna Montenegro: Issue 12
  • Trey Moody: Issue 15
  • Catherine Moore: Issue 13
  • Justin Edward Moore: Issue 30
  • Gustave Morin: Issues 13, 31
  • Rachel Moritz: Issue 4
  • Nick Moudry: Issue 3
  • J. Mulcahy-King: Issue 31
  • Christopher Mulrooney: Issue 1, 27
  • Rich Murphy: Issue 30
  • Sheila E. Murphy: Issues 1, 2, 4, 11, 13, 15, 33
  • Gregg Murray: Issue 22
  • John Myers: Issue 22, 29
  • n
  • Anita Naegeli: Issue 5
  • Leonardo Guevara Navarro: Issue 10
  • Katie Marie Nealon: Issue 10
  • bruno neiva: Issue 24
  • Marci Nelligan: Issue 11
  • Amber Nelson: Issue 13
  • Cami Nelson: Issue 13
  • Murat Nemet-Nejat: Issue 15
  • Daniel Nester: Issues 5, 33
  • Bruno Neiva: Issues 18, 20
  • Marko Niemi: Issue 13
  • Andrew Nightingale: Issue 6
  • T.A. Noonan: Issue 12
  • o
  • Ginny O'Brien: Issue 30
  • Mary Ocher: Issue 17
  • Maurice Oliver: Issue 9
  • Stephen Oliver: Issue 5
  • Jose Oquendo: Issue 10
  • Kevin O'Rourke: Issue 19
  • Timothy David Orme: Issue 9
  • Tara Orzolek: Issue 32
  • Thomas Osatchoff: Issue 31
  • Oscar Oswald: Issue 24
  • p
  • Clemente Padin: Issue 21
  • Juliet Patterson: Issue 6
  • David Pavelich: Issue 1
  • Christian Peet: Issue 6
  • Erica Pepin: Issue 29
  • Craig Santos Perez: Issue 12
  • Sarah Perkins: Issue 29
  • Michael Peters: Issues 4, 5, 10, 13, 15, 16
  • Lance Phillips: Issue 2
  • W.E. Pierce: Issue 33
  • Derek Pollard: Issues 9, 12, 16, 18, 24, 31
  • Steve Potter: Issue 34
  • Judyta Preis: Issue 16
  • Barbora Pridal: Issue 30
  • Tomas Pridal: Issues 28, 30
  • Ross Priddle: Issue 8
  • Gretchen Primack: Issue 34
  • Moriah Purdy: Issue 19
  • q
  • Lanny Quarles: Issue 3
  • r
  • Stephen Ratcliffe: Issues 13, 18
  • Francis Raven: Issues 3, 15
  • Jai Arun Ravine: Issue 19
  • Marthe Reed: Issues 10, 15
  • Michael Rerick: Issues 9, 14
  • Jon Riccio: Issue 33
  • Mg Roberts: Issue 15
  • Michael Robins: Issues 10, 24
  • Hannah Rodabaugh: Issue 31
  • Summer Rogers: Issue 2
  • Steve Roggenbuck: Issue 16
  • Rebecca Givens Rolland: Issue 17
  • Damian Judge Rollison: Issue 2
  • Kathleen Rooney: Issue 19
  • Sarah Rosenthal: Issue 33
  • Michael Rothenberg: Issues 11, 14, 15
  • MH Rowe: Issue 22
  • Ric Royer: Issue 12
  • Michael Ruby: Issue 7
  • David Ruderman: Issue 31
  • Ken Rumble: Issues 2, 6
  • e.k rzepka: Issue 13
  • s
  • Cindy St. John: Issue 19
  • Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino: Issues 4, 6, 8, 13
  • James Sanders: Issue 13
  • Liza Samples: Issue 23
  • Liz Sanger: Issues 18, 21
  • Fabio Sassi: Issues 20, 33
  • Cindy Savett: Issues 15, 26, 32
  • Matthew Savoca: Issue 14
  • Chris Sawyer: Issue 3
  • Larry Sawyer: Issues 2, 15
  • Katrina Schaag: Issue 28
  • Kathrin Schaeppi: Issue 16
  • Kate Schapira: Issues 11, 13, 17, 21, 24
  • Jared Schickling: Issues 10, 19, 32
  • Eric Schmaltz: Issue 23
  • Matthew Schmidt: Issue 28
  • Zachary Schomburg: Issue 8
  • Karl Schroeder: Issue 31
  • Peter Schwartz: Issues 13, 15
  • Lorin Schwarz: Issue 19
  • Kaethe Schwehn: Issue 21
  • Brian Seabolt: Issues 2, 8, 10, 17
  • Serge Segay: Issue 12
  • Ian Seed: Issue 18
  • Leslie Seldin: Issue 30
  • Tim Shaner: Issue 19
  • Ravi Shankar: Issue 3
  • James Shea: Issue 1
  • Felicia Shenker: Issue 14
  • Brandon Shimoda: Issues 6, 8
  • Peter Jay Shippy: Issue 7
  • James Shivers: Issue 6
  • Paul Siegell: Issues 18, 25
  • Michael Sikkema: Issues 10, 13, 19, 22, 27
  • Sandra Simonds: Issue 7
  • Laura Sims: Issue 21
  • Will Skinker: Issue 11
  • Susan Slaviero: Issue 14
  • Marcus Slease: Issue 12
  • Jessica Smith: Issue 21
  • Kerri Sonnenberg: Issue 1
  • Marc Snyder: Issues 5, 22
  • Robert Yerachmiel Snyderman: Issue 29
  • Wes Solether: Issue 23
  • Theresa Sotto: Issue 12
  • Matina L. Stamatakis: Issue 11
  • harry k stammer: Issue 7
  • Sasha Steensen: Issue 16
  • Chuck Stebelton: Issue 15
  • Jordan Stempleman: Issue 3
  • Carol Stetser: Issues 8, 10, 15
  • D. E. Steward: Issues 30, 31, 32, 34
  • Steven J. Stewart: Issue 5
  • Brian Strang: Issues 10, 12, 19, 32
  • Adam Strauss: Issues 11, 13, 20, 25
  • Mark Stricker: Issue 9
  • Stephanie Strickland: Issue 32
  • Lynn Strongin: Issues 9, 11, 14, 17, 19, 20
  • Alison Strub: Issue 26
  • Daniel Sumrall: Issue 8
  • Dee Sunshine: Issue 22
  • Dennis James Sweeney: Issue 23
  • Cole Swensen: Issue 2
  • Jake Syersak: Issue 29
  • t
  • Eileen Tabios: Issue 15
  • Bronwen Tate: Issue 10
  • Naomi Beth Tarle: Issue 16
  • Shelly Taylor: Issue 11
  • Thomas Lowe Taylor: Issues 6, 8, 11, 12
  • Elizabeth Terrazas: Issue 18
  • Clay Thistleton: Issue 32
  • Jon Thompson: Issues 1, 28
  • Robert R. Thurman: Issue 33
  • Steve Timm: Issues 4, 6, 9
  • Javier Tlum: Issue 12
  • Barbara Tomash: Issues 28, 34
  • Serena M. Tome: Issue 18
  • Chris Tonelli: Issue 10
  • Andrew Topel: Issues 4, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, 16, 18, 21, 27, 31, 32, 34
  • Tony Tost: Issue 8
  • Amy Jo Trier-Walker: Issue 26
  • Amish Trivedi: Issues 14, 22
  • Sam Truitt: Issues 8, 22
  • v
  • Ashley VanDoorn: Issues 11 , 16
  • Tomás Varas: Issue 12
  • Nico Vassilakis: Issues 5, 7, 12, 15
  • Christina Vega-Westhoff: Issue 25
  • Sara Veglahn: Issue 3
  • Chelsea Velaga: Issue 26
  • Ruy Ventura: Issue 12
  • Gautam Verma: Issues 8, 10, 19
  • Erick Verran: Issue 29
  • Chris Vitiello: Issue 7
  • Brad Vogler: Issue 19
  • w
  • Dan Waber: Issue 12
  • James Wagner: Issue 5
  • Mark Wallace: Issues 12, 15
  • Joshua A. Ware: Issues 13, 24
  • Michael Joseph Walsh: Issue 24
  • Ted Warnell: Issues 12, 13, 29
  • Eddie Watkins: Issue 10
  • Della Watson: Issue 9
  • Kerri Webster: Issue 13
  • Irving Weiss: Issues 8, 10, 12, 15, 17, 26
  • Caroline Whitbeck: Issues 11, 31
  • Derek White: Issues 5, 10
  • Jared White: Issue 13
  • Brian Whitener: Issues 11, 12
  • Scott Wilkerson: Issues 9, 11, 16, 19
  • Afton Wilky: Issue 21
  • Erin Wilson: Issue 26
  • John Moore Williams: Issue 15
  • Joshua Marie Wilkinson: Issue 11
  • Randall Williams: Issues 7, 10
  • Tim Willette: Issue 14
  • Elizabeth Winder: Issue 16
  • Terence Winch: Issue 10
  • Ian Randall Wilson: Issue 3
  • Laura Madeline Wiseman: Issue 26
  • Elizabeth Witte 27
  • Valerie Witte: Issues 22, 28
  • Bill Wolak: Issues 33, 34
  • David Wolf: Issues 9, 11
  • Jane Wong: Issue 20, 34
  • Mary Woodbury: Issue 15
  • Theodore Worozbyt: Issue 10
  • Greta Wrolstad: Issue 8
  • Jenny Wu: Issue 24
  • Brennen Wysong: Issue 17
  • y
  • Ryo Yamaguchi: Issue 14
  • Elizabeth Marie Young: Issue 10
  • Mark Young: Issues 6, 14, 26, 30, 31, 32
  • Changming Yuan: Issue 33
  • z
  • Snezana Zabic: Issue 21
  • Nicole Zdeb: Issues 15, 17
  • Joshua Zelesnick: Issue 33
  • Xinyu Zhao: Issue 32
  • Elizabeth Zuba: Issue 15
  • Arianne Zwartjes: Issue 13