Vol. 8 No. 3

Winter 2025

Waiting for Godot
Editor's Note
A Poem in Which I Live Happily Ever After
Terra Bella
Vick's Vapo-Rub
your father
Zero to Infinity
Tiny Fish
As If I Were a Meadow/Antonietta
How to Keep Produce Fresh
From East to West
Crossroads
a jumping fish in three parts
What Drops on the Ground Becomes Fertile
A Dedication
When I Left the South
The Site
Unclaimed
The Pool Isn’t Empty
The Unknowable
Quatern: Spinoza in Exile I
Why a Dove
Autumn Leaves in Taos
Snow Angel
When I worked security, we’d walk
wedding garden
Rummage
Birthday Party All Tricked Out
Herd Instinct (A Diptych)
Crawfishing in Macleay Park
Communion II
Loquiphobia
Toronto Night
How to Make Potatoes Au Gratin for a Family Holiday
Cactus Fruit
Nobody’s Girl
We Can’t Find Where My Grandparents Are Buried
The River Calls For Us All
Hook
Scavengers
Shaving
Interchange
schedule this message to send at 3am
Wes Anderson
Cartload
While attending the Deep Vellum ten-year anniversary party at The Wild Detectives
Camera Obscura as Self-Portrait
Returning from an earthworm’s funeral procession being carried out by razor jaw ants, we get stuck in rain*
Imprint
This doe as a map
Cicadas, Puenta Allen, Yucatán
Stab Shallow
Mystic Aquarium
Summer A
Vigil
Interior
Untertow: A Love Story
Medusahead
When my lover wakes, there are no warplanes in the sky
Stones & Stories
After One Last Trip to the Store
Even a Rabbit Can Twist an Ankle
Someone Always Needs to Explain
So Many Books, Too Few Elders
Tree-Eaters
Fast Friends
Wild
IMG_5472
Atoning
Lily Elsie Before The Merry Widow
Dick Van Dyke flees his Malibu home
How to Lucid Dream
Six Characters in Search of an Author

Untertow: A Love Story

We take our chances on the rocks that sweat yesterday’s storm. Arrive at sea level intact. A holy place now before us. Queens and kings, mothers and fathers, lovers and storytellers reside here. Buried long ago beneath dunes overlooking an ocean so unpredictable that she sometimes seizes waders by the ankles. We don’t need a reminder to keep our distance. Have already learned to revere the sacred. He sits on a piece of driftwood near the warning sign. Absorbs the water’s roar and wail. I turn my back to him, her. Lured away by the whispers of the mothers beneath the sand. We cried that ocean into life. The sun tries out different places in the sky. Soon will set. We find each other. Always do. Motion toward the trail now hot and dry. Choose to climb back up

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