On January 1
Elizabeth Robinsonfor Norma Cole
Time is light,
that’s all. Her tongue
a version, a map
version, where star maps
are always off-history whether
translating light
from a far galaxy or a local
cloud. “Oh!”
she said, a figure of herself,
“Yes.” Whereupon the light
threw itself down and pierced
her tongue, where it remained
like a stud, that she clicked against
her teeth as she spoke.
Issue 14
Global vs. Local
Fall 2011
Nonfiction
Poetry
Eros in Footnote
Matthew Kulisch
Augur of Familial Scenes
Brent House
Household Archeology
Anne Babson
On Palindromes
Elizabeth Robinson
On Grass
Elizabeth Robinson
Consumerism
Janice Worthen
Charting
Anhvu Buchanan
On January 1
Elizabeth Robinson
Fiction
Excerpt from The Fayum Portraits
Kate Moses
Like Nothing
Robyn Carter
Bicycle
Ben Paris
BEYOND THIS POINT ARE MONSTERS
Roxanne Carter
The Sad Sentence
Andrew McLinden
SON OF A FATHER
Tony Press
Art