In the Style Of… James Brubaker __________ Here is Ohio. And here is Dayton, and here is a suburb, a strip mall, a bar—a karaoke bar. I am neither a patron, nor an employee. I am something else entirely, sick with anticipation, throbbing from the bar’s early evening quiet. I…
Read MoreTicket to Ride Angela Ball __________ Why did I not ask my father to stop at the drive-in to get my sister the foot-long hot dog she had asked for? Because when we neared it, “Ticket to Ride” was playing on the radio, and I couldn’t speak. Why not? The…
Read MoreLetter from the Guest Editor Karris Rae __________ I started on my first instrument when I was seven—my mom’s old snare drum, already dimpled from years of use. I didn’t stick with it long (how long could I spend on a single note?), but I’d have more luck with the…
Read MoreLetter from the Editor Vallie Lynn Watson __________ Last summer, I saw the best concert of my life, at the Beacon Theatre in Manhattan. The band was Sparks, who originated in 1971; it remains painful to me that I did not discover Sparks until 2015. And there is a part…
Read MoreReplacement Mia Bonds and Alexandria Knight, Editorial Assistants __________ The thing sleeping next to me is not my husband. It looks just like him. The same black [18 across] [3 down] with grey, the same moles forming [6 across] on its face. It sounds like him too, mostly. Voice low…
Read MoreA Bird Taking a Shit Like a Dog Ben Belcher __________ __________ Ben Belcher is an illustrator, multimedia artist, and string band musician. He is primarily self-taught across all areas. He began pursuing pen and ink illustration and 5-string banjo around 2002. He is a member of two long-running, internationally…
Read MoreGood Friday Julia Johnson __________ Today even crueler than yesterday, you in your suit, tucked in, great and holy Friday. I keep you in the book I do not hold. The brave clouds roll in. Maybe you were meant to balance a glass on your head in my dream. Maybe…
Read MoreFrom Inside Hollow Walls Melanie Whithaus __________ When we were young, my husband witnessed his friend die. It happened during the summer, right before the midwestern heat got too unbearably hot. I never knew this friend, except for that she loved pink and butterflies, as most seven-year-old girls do. I…
Read MoreMidsummer, Again Lee Upton __________ It was that day again, the day when he’d have to terrify the actors. Actors! These particular actors weren’t even legitimate actors. They had no training, no technique. Puck couldn’t help sneering. He sneered every time the actors came out to rehearse in the woods.…
Read MoreMachine Gun Secrets Meg Tuite __________ Flee the folk who hunt us. It is endurance, hopping over deranged legacies and lack of fantasy to keep hidden within the tall, wet grass of expression. We examine the space before us. Spend more time at this then sleep. Privy to all songbirds,…
Read More