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Contents
curated by
Evan Karp + Lisa Church
featured artist
Madeline Gobbo | madelinegobbo.com
The first thing she smells as she steps off the elevator
into their loft on the Lower East Side is marijuana. It
is even more potent than the burnt rubber and molten
lead. She takes off her knit poncho and slides two
thick bracelets high on her left bicep. Her tall red
boots echo down the hallway.
1
eyes. He places his hands in the pockets of his hooded
sweatshirt. Then kicks his work boots together. A
clump of mud falls on the floor. There is a loud silence
between them. It’s so effing large! She walks around
the steel box: four lead plates, leaning against the
other. No top. An open container. The size of an adult
playpen. If she stood in it, it would be up to her waist.
Yet, it’s not sturdy enough to crawl over. You can see
light coming through the cracks. She wonders if she
will ever see him and not it again?
“It won’t.”
“It’s self-supporting.”
“It’s interdependent.”
2 Jennifer Lewis
“It’s a box, Richard!”
Je nni f e r Le wi s 3
“Are you saying my work pretends to be taxidermy?”
She wants to reply, I’m sick of all of you men who are
constantly bragging about truthfulness! How does
anyone know the truth when it’s always changing?
Wasn’t Paris the truth? Yes, their landlady threatened
to kick them out when she realized they weren’t
married, but weren’t they mad for each other when
they finally said those stupid vows? Richard had
stopped painting and started working with live and
stuffed animals. That picture of him with his shit-
eating-grin, one arm in the pig’s trough. So willing
to play. To explore. Wasn’t that true? She, already a
Fulbright, helped him with his application, and then
he became a Scholar himself. Now he resented her for
her pedigree. But weren’t they the same? Both coming
from Yale, then Paris, then Italy. Didn’t they have the
same dream—once?
4 Jennifer Lewis
with that thing.”
Je nni f e r Le wi s 5
h Hell
redit er
Me
L o sin g
M y Inn o c e n c e
Me re di t h He lle r 7
And though his body was bent
by a past of being battered by angry fists,
he had cultivated a quality of attention
that was tender
as new green shoots.
8 Me r e di t h H e lle r
ready to meet him in the morning
and maybe I would’ve felt differently
had he been excited to see me
had he pulled me close
and blown on the embers,
but he didn’t even reach to kiss me
when we said hello.
Me re di t h He lle r 9
My whole life
I’ve been tossed and tumbled
by intense tides of solitude.
When I do emerge from the depths
of my private sea,
if I meet a man I like
and there is a connection that feeds us both
like a fountain of youth,
then there are no games with me,
there is no cat and mouse,
if I let you in to my private cove,
it’s because I already love you,
and I don’t hold out
and I don’t hold back,
I bring my wild and wounded love
right to your altar
ripe as a summer peach.
10 Me r e di t h H e lle r
Enough is enough.
Me re di t h He lle r 11
The Copper Witch
Bone by bone
memory by memory
she takes herself apart
She
drinks iron
from the stones
until her blood flows
red as rubies
She
bakes herself
copper
in the sun
Every molecule
awake
to the music.
The choir
of the pines
rehearsing
a requiem.
The river
Me re di t h He lle r 13
rushing down the rocks
singing its gospel.
Here
I feel alive,
my vulva wet.
The dragonflies
sailing
the wind.
14 Me r e di t h H e lle r
ie Seifert
Kat
Nothing is New
& N o O n e is D e a d
we live in circles
15
and my sister
and the pain is ready to be parsed through
ready for me to hear it
to know it
for now
it’s settled here
made a home of my belly
pronounced in my loneliness
they just creep into the bodies of the ones they were
supposed to love
16 Me r e di t h H e lle r
arles Kruger
Ch
Preparing To Begin:
A Memoir
What I Know At 7
17
staying at our house because she can’t go home.
I know I’m weird; everybody thinks so.
I know I’m ashamed but I don’t know why.
I know I’m a fat slob.
I know I’m smarter than most people.
I know I think it’d be fun to be blind.
I know I can play the piano better than my sister.
Even better than my Daddy.
I know Daddy is ashamed of me and wishes I weren’t
here.
I know Daddy wants me dead.
I know things have got to get better.
They’ve just got to.
18 C h a r l e s K r uge r
ld er G. Loren
Ca z
Dear Lindsay
a shorter story
This is what the note says: When you read this book you
will begin to see why I am the way I am and why I do some
of the things I do. Why I don’t like crowds, being stuck in
traffic, or to stand in line (feeling boxed in); travel (being
away from the fort, outside the wire); keep loaded guns
in the house; stay on high alert, ready for an attack; am
suspicious of strangers, people knocking on my front door
(sometimes I take my pistol with me to the front door); need
to sit facing the entry door in a restaurant and with my
back to the wall and near an emergency exit if possible;
get angry when disrespected (someone cutting me off on
the road); often feel as if I were outside looking in, just
19
going through the motions. Why I have insomnia, can’t
turn my head off, relax, or have fun. I don’t expect you to
understand it because you can’t, but this book will help you
to see that I can’t help it. It’s the way I am. Once a warrior,
always a warrior. You can’t just turn it off on demand. –
March 14th, 2017. *
Now that I’ve done what I set out to do, I’m driving
back to town. I need a few things. I wonder if you
remember Bryan. He’s been calling me lately. He says
that he’s got a good gig at the stadium. You know,
doing security work. He says they pay well there. That
they treat people well. He says that they need big guys
to help keep people from hurting each other there. I
wonder what you would say about all of that. I would
have to wear black. And I’d have to do some trainings.
Bryan says that one time he had to take a guy down
and they had to put the guy in handcuffs and then the
police took him away. You always seemed to like Bryan,
so maybe this is what I should be doing with my time.
I don’t know.
20 C a l de r G . L or e nz
some opinion about what we were doing out there. I
wonder if you ever visit the river anymore.
Ca lde r G. Lore nz 21
snow was so high that it was up to his chest. I watched
him take these big exaggerated steps in it all the way
to the top of this hill. I remember letting him off the
leash and watching as he started jumping around and
rolling in it until he slipped and went right down the
hill. What a feeling. I remember thinking that I’d lost
him. I remember running and falling down that hill. I
remember the feeling of him licking my face as we sat
in the snow.
*A
typed note that was taped inside the first page of a book (Once A Warrior,
Always A Warrior). The book was left at a lending library somewhere in San
Bruno, California.
22 C a l de r G . L or e nz
m ak Vossoug
Sia hi
Th e Sp
e a k e r ’s A p p r e n t i c e
After college, Shayan Ghorbanian worked in a hotel.
He wrote letters about the place to a girl in Texas. He
hadn’t set out to write about the place. He had set out
to write love letters. But it seemed like the best way to
do it once he started was to show her the place where
he thought of her.
23
difference between being polished and confident. I
don’t know what it is yet. But maybe a really confident
guy would get on stage and say, ‘Beats me. What do
you guys think?’ I don’t know how well that would
go over. I’d pay to see a guy like that. That might
actually be fun. For all the different groups I’ve seen
in this place, I can’t shake the notion that there can be
something nice about a group of people together in a
big room. I haven’t seen it yet, but I think it can be. It
always looks like it can be to me, right up until the start
of the event. That’s why I like to come in and watch
everybody during the breaks. The whole thing doesn’t
look so bad then.
“Hi buddy.”
“Okay.”
“Retired at thirty?”
“Yes!”
24 S i a m a k Vo s s oug h i
“That seems like a very young age to retire.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
Si a ma k Vossou gh i 25
He smiled. “You have to be realistic.”
26 S i a m a k Vo s s oug h i
“Good luck,” Shayan said.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“What happened?”
Si a ma k Vossou gh i 27
“He said how come we don’t ever motivate people to do
anything together.”
28 S i a m a k Vo s s oug h i
ro line Kessl
Ca er
TRACE
The why dissolves into lamplight. I go to the country
she died in, spend months searching
for something she left. Climbing from floor zero
to the roof, staring out at the antennaed sky.
The astrologers say, what is wrong with being
totally happy. Nothing. So do it. I unearth
stones that look like tiger’s eyes, drill holes
into them. Threaded string, knotted,
an eye solid against my chest.
30 C a r ol i n e K e s s l e r
I go north to a house, to try to be alone. To listen
to what hovers below the surface. A person
warns me—you’ll hear the children, music, car races.
It’s nothing. I burrow towards my mossy
center.
Ca roli ne Ke ssle r 31
- SET 2 -
loe Wieland
Ch
I L o v e A b o r ti o n
I love abortion. I’ve had two, and I don’t think I’ll have
a chance for another, but god am I glad for the two I’ve
had. Just think, if it wasn’t for abortion, I would have
an 11 year old child with me right now. I wouldn’t
have spent the past decade exploring the infinite
options available to me. More troubling, I would have
had to figure out who the father was. Dan? The sweet
blonde man I’d slept with around Thanksgiving? I
don’t even remember how I ended up at his house. All
I remember is a twin bed in a dark room and walking
to my car in Birkenstock clogs in the snow, crunchy
ice crystals getting in my shoes and melting into my
sock as I drove home.
33
I’d met Charlie at 17. He was 20 and seemed different
from the other frat guys, the same way I thought I was
different from the private school girls I lived with.
We both had to work during school, we had that in
common. He’d crawl into my bed after delivering
pitas by bicycle, his body ice-cold. Mostly though, we
went to parties and drank alcohol and had sex, same as
everyone around us. Alcohol ended whatever it was—
an argument, while drunk, about whether I’d told
someone something, which I may have done, also while
drunk. The following two years of occasional sex and
pretending not to care wasn’t exactly satisfying, but I
just couldn’t let go. He was a really great guy.
34 C h l oe W i e l an d
If the first abortion was full of youthful drama, the
second one felt like I had become an adult. Instead
of calling my mother in tears and exaggerating the
turmoil of my decision, I knew exactly what to do.
As soon as the familiar alcohol induced nausea hit, I
called PP and booked an appointment, which turned
out to be on the first day of class for graduate school.
I managed to get to both, coming home to rest alone
in my studio apartment, reading or smoking a bowl
and quietly celebrating another near miss, another
successful detour from facing the consequences of my
actions.
Ch loe Wi e land 35
attention and kindness, which younger brothers can
be really good at giving.
36 C h l oe W i e l an d
at her Bourbea
He u
Zoltan’s Avocados
37
The Slightly Melancholic Goat
The girl loved her goat, let him clamber
on top of her bicycle as she rode around town,
gave it all her sprouts and corned beef, groomed its
coat.
And when he was very good, she would feed him
poison oak that she kept in the greenhouse
away from her brothers and their sensitive skin.
38 H e at h e r B our b e au
longing for crushes that seemed destined to fail as
even he could see
those boys preferred broader shoulders and deeper
voices
than she would ever have, even with the inevitable
whiskey and gin.
She would share so much of herself, he felt selfish.
He at h e r Bou rbe au 39
Super Smalls Had It All
40 H e at h e r B our b e au
But he could not stop.
He at h e r Bou rbe au 41
n O’Reilly
Dio
M u st h
The word for when bull elephants are straight-up
crazy
to smash, fuck and kill, their penises longer
than yardsticks, erect for months at a time,
a stream of urine dribbling a trail of stench, sludge of
hormones
leaking from their temples and running into their
mouths.
43
bay trees.
The barefoot trails my friends walked to the creek
are gone,
and so are the steelhead, snagged on wormy hooks,
cooked in a blaze on the rocky floodplain.
44 D i on O ’ R e i lly
Safety
Di on O’ Re i lly 45
you learned to carry
close like your own beloved.
How can you forget
the look of the sky
as they beat you?
Telling you nothing
of the beauty in your flesh.
You’ve heard it takes one person
loving a child
for a child to survive,
and you say, Even if it’s just a dog.
It might be enough—
this wind you listen to, the thin limbs.
Whatever it was
that was given you
that you don’t know you have.
46 D i on O ’ R e i lly
Leaving the Burn Ward
Di on O’ Re i lly 47
Slow down, I say. Turn off the radio.
48 D i on O ’ R e i lly
Everything That’s Old
Di on O’ Re i lly 49
Abe Becker
cool cats
hep cats
the Cat in the Hat cat calling Catzilla
MROW! If you catwalk like you fall mmmm…
leered the Cat in the Hat at poor Catzilla
who self-consciously hairballed
a hundred pound loogie
on Old Deuteronomy the stray
aristocat mewing on about the weather
a.k.a. himself Amaright? Amaright?
Isn’t my tux nice or Amaright? (splat)
as a kitten in boots took it all in as
just a pelt in the downpour whereas
jolly old Catty Claws knew
what he was falling for
guffawing Meow! Meow! Meow!
Merry Whiskers! checking his list twice: cat-
apulting mice cat’s eyes in marbles
cat’s eyes in celestial alleyways
where calicos caterwaul
ferals caterwaul
all cats caterwaul for
cat’s eye ice cream that tastes
a lot like cat-cowing urban yogi sweat
cascading like infinite felines slip
’n sliding down God’s spine wow
51
that Cat O’ Nine Tails can’t not sass
it’s so cute how she pirouettes through
the Milky Way laps & laps the sky
while aliens sip sip sip Cat® a tonic
named after this uncategorizably adorable
breed that has only been cute on that planet
until now as it hails from our sky along with
Garfield yep it’s really Garfield & that cat’s meow
meows LASAGNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
wow recall the safety you’d feel reading
funnies in your dad’s Sunday paper safety
of a future when you wouldn’t get as
lonely & socially awkward as you still are stop
pretending you’re an indoors in the midst
of this miraculous downpour Halleluiah!
it’s raining cats & cats out there
allergic? grab your N95 mask & don’t come back in
until the adorable storm passes
52 Abe B e cke r
Not Sleeping with My Cat
on My Bed Is How
I Learned to Meditate
Abe Be ck e r 53
making
love
my cat
made me feel the size of hurricanes in my chest
I might stay up half the night
trying not to wake her sleeping on my belly
not sleeping with my cat on my bed is how I learned
to meditate
whenever things got so bad
every time I brushed my teeth
I wanted a divorce from my face
I could always turn from the mirror & look at her
to the sound of my toothbrush slathering my teeth
she’d be cleaning her entire hind leg
from tail to paw & I thought
I am that cute & simple & she knew
I was a giant
54 Abe B e cke r
as Goshen
Had
55
Of shrimplike conversation
Slippery and without smell. A first
56 H a das G o s h e n
If I Could Repaint
my name American
Ha das Gosh e n 57
This sound she does not
Unhook side-doors to the yard
And find brilliant blond
Swastikas sprayed on her wall
The skin of her home
Is bare and clean and
Pure I tug open the can
And help my dad repaint.
58 H a das G o s h e n
Water
after Elizabeth Acevedo
Ha das Gosh e n 59
Glass pitcher, sweating clean in June’s dull heat.
I am neither, nor blinded by the fevered green of
amazons,
60 H a das G o s h e n
n do Meisenha
r na lt
er
Fe
B o u n d a ri e s
Her name is Kristy or Kristal or Kelly, I’m not sure
which, so I just call her sweetheart and babe and she
never seems to mind. She’s too busy talking about her
ex-boyfriend anyway, a guy who’s still her boss at work.
“At least he can’t fire me,” she says. “I’d sue him for
sexual harassment, the only form of job security we
have left.”
“But they just pill you up,” she says. “And I need answers,
not ways to postpone the inevitable.”
62 F e r n an do Me i s e nh a lt e r
I agree, and I nod to everything, and she looks at me
with curiosity, perhaps even with interest, probably
wondering: “who’s this guy who keeps nodding at
everything I say?”
“Absolutely not.”
Fe rnando Me i se nh a lt e r 63
“You know Celine sang for Pope John Paul II when he
visited Montreal?”
“I know.”
“Of course.”
64 F e r n an do Me i s e nh a lt e r
Simand
Alex
Sm e ll
s Like Holiday Spirit
at your christmas party, a man with pomp spilling from
his suit said, yes every flavor of nonsense, and a whiff
of rotting whale wafted across the room. it’s been a big
year for me, the Freudian refrain that impales itself
upon you, every Black Friday irony that pitches a tent
in a city of homeless. you can’t turn a cockroach into a
prince, no matter the amount of lip service you give,
no matter the here: let me play doctor and you play the
sultry nurse with the ice pick. the man with the suit
proclaims himself the greatest depression, upturns his
pockets and scatters gold to the floor. watch your
coworkers turn tricks for scraps, shedding masks like
vacuum packed skirt steaks. I have to leave, you say.
salvage the bones and get the stew going. one day the
pig will fly and we’ll all be on the dance floor
pretending this is all the DJ’s fault.
65
nnie Zheng
Co
St r a n g e G e o l o gies
67
Pitch of summer, green marrow of sky.
You played the piano despite being half-deaf,
Whispering into the winter wind.
68 Connie Zheng
ia n Waksmuns
Br ki
Black Hawk Blue
midnight
corner
Hyde & Turk
clipped pigeons strain their ears
trespassing padlocked parking lot
brown paper bags of pounder beers
riffraff crowd of busted cars
lame ponies without owners
praying for piano bars
from long gone jazz ghost donors
and I’m vibing kind of blue
kind of a greenish hue of blue
as we wait here for Bill Evans
full moon & cigarette lit seance
waxing once upon a neon
once upon a scene
waiting for Bill Evans
and his ivory boned machine
/
69
sidewalk plaque X marks the spot
monument for moment lost at sea
flotsam legends scattered to four corners
jetsam jams adrift amid the ‘loin antiquity
notes which soared like cannonballs
from horns that wailed and whined
intoxicating eardrums
as they downtown hip defined
devil-tailed tunes out backdoor slipped
to vice mischief incite
in alleyways they rollick yet
soundtrack of San Franciscan night
/
sign on chain link claims “lot full”
sold out show this evening
but I see only we
in the bulldozed Black Hawk’s shadow
waiting here to hear Bill Evans
to assure us that tomorrow
when we’re all a flat grazed parking lot
tour posters faded faces forgot
erased from lit marquees with
the same effortless ease
that Bill Evans rolled a riff with
those key-tickling fingers
70 B r i an Wa k s m un ski
the song we sounded in our prime
after our time still lingers
when our Steinways sell for firewood
and snares for credit pawned
our legacies will keep the beat
like encores from beyond