by Robert Beveridge how the handle of the cheap plasticsuitcase feels against the palmof your hand and how the solesof your cheap Keds feel when youstep off the stoop and hit the road and you swear you won’t come backbut you know somewhere downthere you will end up back in…
by James Croal Jackson Now that I know how to swimI am ready to save every bodyfrom the waves in my brain. The neurological tsunamisweeps me from whatever you are trying to say because I was trying to save myself firstby drifting away.
by Kimberly Nunes Though it meant deaththe van pulled up in luminous sunthough it meant death—carried to sand, her final ocean whiffkind eyes on us, haunches stilled,a big heart too large, and all this beauty—though it meant death