Category: Fall 2015 Issue – Sumac Tribute Issue
In winter when the towels get dry just by being in the house
by Diane Wald My undertaker wears a lively cologne. I like it. I believe in his religion, for he has seen a man pack up his falsetto and travel,
if you’re sleeping and not dreaming, you are dead
by Diane Wald i am broken. and my fissures have not been repaired with gold, you can trace your finger along my faults, and cut your fingers on
my good ex-friend godzilla
by Diane Wald i wasn’t aware that kind of ruination could happen his twin had died when they were born but it took him a year to tell me then
Beauty’s Voice
by Diane Wakoski When the night taps on glass and, in the dark, I brush past down comforters, puffy as birds fluffed and huddled
mouth surfing (preverbs)
by George Quasha 1 on the pale trail of the pores on fire Speaking with chilies in your mouth produces
things done for themselves (preverbs) for Susan
by George Quasha 1 last first words We walk together like a field of
Old Books
by Dan Gerber My life’s companions, showing their age — spines peeled back, bindings frayed — stacks of brittle leaves, kept with tape and rubber
Correspondences
by Dan Gerber Natania Darvath’s Songs of the Auvergne in my minds ear while the daylight ghost of a waning quarter–moon drifts just above
Nirvana
by Dan Gerber A hundred quail on the grass outside my window, and the dogs are a little upset, and at least one hundred doves — band–tailed
Vows
by Jim Harrison I feel my failure intensely as if it were a vital organ the gods grew from the side of my head. You can’t cover it with a hat and