By LYNN DOMINA BWR Poetry Editor, 1984-1985   Carole says choose an image and so I choose this African elephant. I want to lay my hand behind her massive draping ear, imagining her tenderness. If I could trace my finger along her fine wrinkles or the veins...

By MARK NEELY BWR Poetry Editor, 2000-2001   In this small world In this small world there is a starfish pressed on the beach like a crippled hand. A crumpled baby picture, the handsome strangers of the internet, and Bin Laden’s tiny television. Pine trees...

By JANET MCADAMS BWR Editor, 1986-1987   If white is the color of mischief, then these white walls, this little house of marble we hide behind willing the man with his notebook to find someone else to follow. We hide, kin to bone, to tuft of fur caught in the...

By COLLEEN HOLLISTER BWR Fiction Editor, Fall 2008-Spring 2009   The museum hangs with birds. The back rooms swim with airplanes. In the night, you will want to see an explosion. In the night, you will be walking in the gardens—the gardens will be dark with...

By CHRISTOPHER CHAMBERS BWR Editor, 1997-1999   One day Veronica told me she wanted to visit her boyfriend Geoffrey who was at that time incarcerated in Duluth. I had never met Geoffrey, who had, long before I met her, given Veronica a fur coat. I wasn’t looking...

By JOHN PURSLEY III BWR Genre Editor, Poetry, Spring 2003   If this is the elegy for the fallen St. Christopher; if this is the face For which a thousand ships will be launched; if this is that launch And the face of that launch bears a similarity to Mary...