It’s the one about the bears and their blonde:
In their many beds I left many cells,
called my multiple personalities down
From the Archives
Browse submissions from past editions, web exclusive content, author Q&A, and more.
In Which Hansel Is Gretel and Gretel Is Hansel
This hurts a lot, but it’s true. It is astral projection gone wrong.
Elegy for a Child Trapped Underground
After the failed attempt to crawl up and out
the long neck of the well, I tried telling
forty seven tarnished pennies about you
Salamandrine, My Kid
The twittering machine lies in its crib, rehabilitating its connections.
‘Sunday Queen’ & ‘Queen’s Mother’ & ‘Queen’s Eulogy for Uncle’
Queen is free as a mite
in the Lord’s mystical eyebrow,
growing ears for no reason.
Small Animal
Sara herself did not know the people throwing the party, but she went to the house in the woods anyway.
‘No Place (Dorothy Reconsiders)’ & ‘Dorothy in the Desert’
Out here the din of tin on tin hangs
just below an orphaned smudge of cumulus,
threatening fickle weather.
The Lemon Tree
A farmer was wandering through his orchard at harvest time, when he saw an apple hanging from one of his lemon trees.
‘A Mouth And Its Name’ & ‘The Hour After Stars’
You told me north water
was not built by virga
but from suicide of the moon.
‘Baby Bird’ & ‘The Barren Wife Gives Birth to a Girl’
I will do the nursing. The suckling and swallowing. He will do the singing.
