May 2017
In this issue
Contents
Poetry
The Fang of Oblivion
It has become mechanistic at this point. I placed the blade in your larynx. I have grown tired of your voice. Your speech isn’t free…
A Foray into Metaphysics
They were trying to catch my eye as I hurried past an old tree, the abandoned pencil factory, and what was rumored to be a..
The Housewife Dreams the Drifter
Here beneath the hems of evergreen, beside the weathered shed where sunlight doesn’t reach, the housewife squints and takes it all in until she sees..