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Current Issue: Spring/Summer 2011

POEMS

Megan Alpert
See-Through

Ash Bowen
Post-Dated Love Note on the Doomsday Planetary Alignment: 5 May 2000
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Ash Bowen
Jennifer in Space: Brief Notes on Helio-Galactic Lullabies
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Ash Bowen
Jennifer in Space: Ultrasound

George Eklund
Essay in White

George Eklund
When the World is Beautiful

Michael Homolka
revisiting

Michael Homolka
triangle

David Kirby
God Loves You When You Shake That Thing

David Kirby
The Rest of Us Don't Have to Try That Hard

Dorianne Laux
"Music my rampart"

Dorianne Laux
San Diego, 1965

Nathan McClain
The Pier: Santa Monica
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Marc McKee
Surgeon General's Warning
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Marc McKee
Elationship
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Eddy Roberts
Interpolated Steps
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Matthew Siegel
Overlooking the City

Matthew Siegel
On a Body that Changes

Matthew Siegel
I am no longer cutting my hair

Judith Skillman
The Courtyard

Judith Skillman
Displacement

Sara Wallace
Questions I Ask Myself

Sara Wallace
The One Blessed Thing

Charles Harper Webb
In Drought Time

Johnathon Williams
Conversations with Imaginary Women

Johnathon Williams
In My Wife's House

Laura Madeline Wiseman
In The Field


FICTION

Rebecca Warner
Reluctant Vegan


NON-FICTION:
The Writing Room: Places Where Writers Write

Paul Austin
Sometimes I Write at the Cosmic Cantina

Andreana Binder
I Write With Noise

Gary L. McDowell
Before Daddy Walks Through the Door: On Where I Write

Amy Newman
Window

Martha Silano
A Plane/Car/Beach/Zoo/Beach of One's Own


REVIEWS

Sara Eliza Johnson on…
The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, Nick Flynn

Melanie Jordan on…
Panic, Laura McCullough

Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum on…
Orange Crush, Simone Muench

Leslie Contreras Schwartz on…
The Book of Ten, Susan Wood

Rebecca Wadlinger on…
Fancy Beasts, Alex Lemon

Vivian Wagner on…
God, Seed: Poetry & Art About the Natural World, Rebecca Foust and Loma Stevens

I am no longer cutting my hair  
Matthew Siegel

I walk through throngs of people I walk around them
am not particular I stop I look at signs forget where I am
I want to eat cherries I want to write that I want to eat cherries
so I sit down on a bench and don’t write a thing but stand up
and almost call my mother to tell her I’m not sad I’m not sad
at all in fact I now carry a stone I touch it and think of all the things
I am grateful for and gosh there are plenty of things medicine
the ability to make fire applesauce etc Devon says he’s grateful
we’re so far from the sun Eric says BEER and I say I am grateful
they each feel that way tomorrow is my bi-weekly injection
and I’m grateful I can do it myself can pinch an inch of my thigh
the discomfort is minimal just like not having cable television
or something maybe running out of ice and having to drink
water warm from the tap except different completely different

 

Matthew Siegel is a poet and essay writer from New York. A recent Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University, he has poems and essays appearing or are forthcoming in Gigantic Sequins, Indiana Review, The Lumberyard, Lo-Ball, Mid-American Review, TheRumpus.net and elsewhere. He lives in San Francisco.