In America, your friend tells you the legend of the silk goddess:
The most logical thing would be to say that it started on a Wednesday, but that’s definitely not correct. Instead, here it is, the unadulterated and possibly too-detailed truth: It started on slaveships.
translated by Patricia Hartland
Bird feet in swamp water, / stilt-topped, chase-in-chase, / and behind lashes long / firmament
Everything we do gets in on history / Now: a figment / Utopia: a compulsion to keep remaking this world
Her song rose up each evening when the sun took its leave. A deep and cloudy song, terribly sad, and which made the prison guards cry.
Jennifer Sperry Steinorth
( Sweet Pea ) ( Lion ) ( Pussy )
( Ernie ) / ( Fire ) ( Flower )
( Thou ) ( Spear )
Jai Hamid Bashir
Hush— / into bodily knowing. Ungather translucent skin /
in the motions how sand is swept / from fisherman’s cuticles.
Rebekkah Leigh LaBlue
A lilt. Some giving- /
over girlishness only my bone tongue can describe slick /
statistic outstanding deviation
Click to enter the game.
(Before reading: If you have a set of hands, leave them behind. Your hands are everything to you, yet not yours, not your own.)
by Rosebud Ben-Oni
But be not like the alchemists: / lambency of laymen, cloistered in draft & sting, brotherly / ragbag of lone wolves. They tried to put a spell on me.
editor & design: jane morton | editorial team: Jackson Saul and Josh Brandon | illustrations: Grey Wolfe LaJoie