Issue 29 | Fall 2023
Issue 29 brings flirty game wardens, nuns in a cavern, mysterious transmissions, the world’s youngest knife thrower, the names of Argentina’s rivers, streams, and lakes, the fountain of youth, gray dawns, and ferocious appetites. It’s about war, lies and misinformation, languages and language, erasures, brutal occupations, bad reasons for enlisting, and signs that refract so deeply we can’t trace their path back to the world. It’s about sinister radio signals from the fillings in your teeth or maybe over there among the trees.
The Ever-After of Hunters Forever Lost in the Forest
By Amy Marques
“We’re captive, forever separated from our before-lives, not free to leave, but free to learn from the forest we’d once set out to plunder.”
Such Good Care
By Ani King
“My mom has never been one for much crying. Not that she never cried, she was a child once, and sometimes one of my aunts will get the sharp, gleeful look of a wronged sibling about to cash in on a little emotional revenge.”
Bind yourself to us with your impossible voice, your voice! sole soother of this vile despair.
—Arthur Rimbaud, “Phrases”
Latest Reviews
Featured Interview
Newest Essay
How to Tell a True Origin Story of a Novel
By Nina Schuyler
“My novel is about a female mathematician, Virginia, who uses artificial intelligence to bring back her dead lover. The two anecdotes I just told you might seem like the origin story of my novel. If someone tells you an origin story like this, don’t believe it.”
What If Every Cow Wants to Save Her Own Life: An Interview with Gretchen Primack
Gretchen Primack is an extraordinary poet not only because she has a mastery of the form and her language but also because she understands what it is to be human and to be kind.
“The Curtain Does Not Draw”: Surrealism and Metafiction in Benjamin Niespodziany’s Cardboard Clouds
Review by Peter Kline
“Benjamin Niespodziany’s ambitious and engaging new collection of prose poems, Cardboard Clouds, ushers readers into a world of madcap theater and casual danger where the curtain might rise on all manner of weather and monsters and fantastical impossibilities. “