Issue 26 | Spring 2022
I Cloud the Moon
Lisa Williams
I cloud the moon. All’s condescension,
my thought of what you are becomes
a shape you just appear to be,
appear, then disappear. And what
I am not crowds your vision too.
Somebody’s made in someone’s vision,
a wax and wane of eyes, of mind.
I do not want to cloud facts, cloud
a person, but I want it, too.
Stay inside me, shattered vision.
Stay me, moon. I make it up.
We make it up, then disappear,
one body in another’s vision,
each a cloud, unrhymed.
About the Author
Lisa Williams has poems in New England Review and Ecotone. She has published three books of poems and lives in Kentucky, where she also serves as series editor for the University Press of Kentucky New Poetry and Prose series. She teaches creative writing.
Prose
The Golden Hops Alberto Ortiz De Zarate, translated by Whitni Battle
The Woman in the Murder House Darlene Eliot
Excerpt from Eva Nara Vidal, translated by Emyr Humphreys
Three Propositions of the White Wind Luna Sicat-Cleto, translated by Bernard Capinpin
Iron Cloud Suzana Stojanović
Buffalo Siamak Vossoughi
The First Ghost I Ever Saw Was Marshall Moore
The Lion Farhad Pirbal, translated by Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse and Jiyar Homer
The Good Man James Miller
The Teacher
Woodwork
My Wife Was Drunk at Hobby Lobby
Oranges; Charcoal Michele Kilmer
Ode to Zheka Olga Krause, translated by Grace Sewell
Padre de Familia John Rey Dave Aquino
Excerpt from Dictionary John M. Kuhlman
Gospel of Mary Michael Garcia Bertrand
Poetry
There are No Salvageable Parts Benjamin Niespodziany
Sunday in the Woods
You Is Not the Room Lisa Williams
I Cloud the Moon
Lost Creek Cave Anna B. Sutton
Excerpt from “Hehasnoname” Sharron Hass, translated by Marcela Sulak
Moon Talk Steve Davenport
The Son of a Bitch of Hope After