Crônica No. 1: On the Form The work of art, like the world, is a living form: it is,…
A Refusal to Disappear, by Doug Rice
My father taught me to count each line of memory cut into a woman’s wrists. The red, round sores…
Two Fictions, by Michael Martone
W H E N N A T U R E W O N ’ T P L U T…
Every Fly’s Ascendant, by Debra Di Blasi
In the end, silence reigned. It settled over dry fields and skeletons—trees black obelisks in risen waters. Finally, children…
From Gagarin, by Louis Armand
The Orbital continues like this, night after night. Slant of cosmic rain slashing the blacktop. Dopplered taillights receding. Not alone…
(Our Real Limbs), by Harold Abramowitz
(31) Then we were waiting for that last second, I thought. It was a good day. There were good…
An Oblation, by Tobias Carroll
No surprise Trina had spent half her inheritance on something abandoned. Years before, she’d exchanged chains of emails with…
Lunagrad, by Andrew Joron
Blenk, more and more troubled by the phrases appearing on his writing pad, went to the window, pulled back the…
A Ballad of the Lost Octopodes, by Karen An-hwei Lee
One morning, a day not apparently unlike any other since I arrived in this small place, I woke, and…