Published Work
Volume 27, Number 2, Summer 2022 (#106)
To purchase issue #106 using Paypal, click here.
The Unwritten Book: An Investigation | Samantha Hunt | by Elizabeth McNeill
Lost & Found | Kathryn Schultz | by Kevin Brown
Names for Light: A Family History | Thirii Myo Kyaw Myint | by Trisha Collopy
For the Good of All Do Not Destroy the Birds | Jennifer Moxley | by Dustin Michael
Dirt Road Revival: How To Rebuild Rural Politics and Why Our Future Depends On It | Chloe Maxmin and Canyon Woodward | by Thomas Rain Crowe
South To America: A
The Unwritten Book: An Investigation | Samantha Hunt | by Elizabeth McNeill
Lost & Found | Kathryn Schultz | by Kevin Brown
Names for Light: A Family History | Thirii Myo Kyaw Myint | by Trisha Collopy
For the Good of All Do Not Destroy the Birds | Jennifer Moxley | by Dustin Michael
Dirt Road Revival: How To Rebuild Rural Politics and Why Our Future Depends On It | Chloe Maxmin and Canyon Woodward | by Thomas Rain Crowe
South To America: A
The Pepper and the Toad
The Pepper and the Toad
“Up to my ass”
said the pepper
“in alligators”
on an Orleans Eve
“Keep your ass up”
spoke the pale-lit toad
“Hunger
is a better spice”
They spoke between spoons of gumbo
straight-legged, shoulders bowed
their backs laced against the glades
of burlesque crawls
“It’s all a myth”
the pepper and the toad agreed.
For under the tobacco night
Mississippi Queen brewed
between the lanterns of jazz
And so the toad
drifted along the path o
“Up to my ass”
said the pepper
“in alligators”
on an Orleans Eve
“Keep your ass up”
spoke the pale-lit toad
“Hunger
is a better spice”
They spoke between spoons of gumbo
straight-legged, shoulders bowed
their backs laced against the glades
of burlesque crawls
“It’s all a myth”
the pepper and the toad agreed.
For under the tobacco night
Mississippi Queen brewed
between the lanterns of jazz
And so the toad
drifted along the path o
Desert
Walk with me—into this desert.
that
unresolved expansion of fog
where you
is not the proper term
you
don’t exist
a story has been intruded upon
not that the desert would use the word
intruded
it won’t remember
you, the mirage of age
tasting delicately water
that won’t be there
just a shadow passing the canvas
a few will hide, some will puff or strike at the empty expanse
because remember
you are not—
The desert is vast.
Evan Burkin (he/him) is particularly
that
unresolved expansion of fog
where you
is not the proper term
you
don’t exist
a story has been intruded upon
not that the desert would use the word
intruded
it won’t remember
you, the mirage of age
tasting delicately water
that won’t be there
just a shadow passing the canvas
a few will hide, some will puff or strike at the empty expanse
because remember
you are not—
The desert is vast.
Evan Burkin (he/him) is particularly
Volume 26, Number 4, 2021-2022 (#104)
To purchase issue #104 using Paypal, click here.
Zhanna Slor: Immigrant Story | interviewed by Melanie Conroy-Goldman
Lincoln Michel: Unrelenting Debt | interviewed by Gavin Pate
Diane Lefer: Her Interest Makes Her a Suspect | interviewed by Tatiana Ryckman
Kaveh Akbar: Scraps of Language | interviewed by Courtney Becks
The Blurb Artist | essay by Dennis Barone
The New Life | a comic by Gary Sullivan
Neeli Cherkovski: A Profile | by Zack Kopp
Preparatory Notes for Future Masterpiece
Zhanna Slor: Immigrant Story | interviewed by Melanie Conroy-Goldman
Lincoln Michel: Unrelenting Debt | interviewed by Gavin Pate
Diane Lefer: Her Interest Makes Her a Suspect | interviewed by Tatiana Ryckman
Kaveh Akbar: Scraps of Language | interviewed by Courtney Becks
The Blurb Artist | essay by Dennis Barone
The New Life | a comic by Gary Sullivan
Neeli Cherkovski: A Profile | by Zack Kopp
Preparatory Notes for Future Masterpiece
Lost Scent
I want to speak jazz with you.
Two hours into
The first of November
When the cobble stones
Keep the light
And police wagons
Are the second hand.
We need to clean
We need to clean
Come back to bed.
Do we have any food?
Come back to bed.
Is anyone still alive?
Only us.
It’s the other way.
Then you take Graciela
I’ll be Bill.
Light Alour.
And hand me your pack of Benson & Hedges.
Two hours into
The first of November
When the cobble stones
Keep the light
And police wagons
Are the second hand.
We need to clean
We need to clean
Come back to bed.
Do we have any food?
Come back to bed.
Is anyone still alive?
Only us.
It’s the other way.
Then you take Graciela
I’ll be Bill.
Light Alour.
And hand me your pack of Benson & Hedges.
Central Park Once
EVAN BURKIN is fond of Russian authors: Dostoevsky, Sokolov, Shiskin, Nabokov, Akhmatova, and so many others. He works as a development writer at a university. His work has been published or is forthcoming in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Analogies & Allegories Literary Magazine, Feral: A Journal of Poetry and Art, The Madrigal, Rain Taxi, and Sur.
Russia’s Race to the Past
UKRAINE IS LITTERED with memorials for the ongoing conflict with Russia. Whole squares are decorated with photos, candles, and reefs to remember and honor those who wanted independence. Kyiv’s Independence Square — a name drenched in irony — is full of the faces of political figures and working-class martyrs as tourists and families linger before the lampposts.Though the conflict is now officially classified as a “frozen war,” its human cost to both nations is clear. According to a report by the
