The Blog

The Spider

Didi Jackson

Because it is spring yet has snowed nonstop for two days,
and because the room is warmed
from the baseboard heaters and the gas fireplace,
and because it is a wet snow that pools in the ruts
of our driveway and at the sills of our windows,
a large brown house spider decides to cross our living room,
each of its legs lifting singularly like a tiny torture,
fierce as a Bourgeois sculpture, who was
eighty when she began her dark decent

Channels to Fall Asleep to

Tongo Eisen-Martin

While shoe box to shoe box travels my childhood

Professionals roll garbage cans around a conference room
Half the size of a holding tank
Half the hope of a holding tank
Full of third world retail flattery
“nothing wrong with the blind leading the blind,”
                                                                                    we think they just said

Two Poems by Jordan Castro

Jordan Castro

Faultless Couple

It was somebody’s fault, but according to him it was not his. She, however, claimed it wasn’t her fault either. It is not my fault, he said. Well it isn’t my fault, she said.


They’d planned to have a garden, but everything they planted died. They planted kale, but it died. They planted tomatoes, but they died. They consulted gardening books, the internet, even their old alcoholic neighbor, but every new thing the couple tried failed.

I-90 Mutilated Acres

Adam Fell

Somewhere near Poynette
our waxwings fail /

Like snow setting
on youthless kites /

thrushed to less /
godwit brimming /

We sing / we sever / we save /

The mute engineering
of our own pried open country

gives our green abundance

away / in gasps / Our hush
the husk of all good intentions /


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