Poetry: “KJ’s Feet”, by Craig Cotter

Not a callous. Each nail clear. Cuticles naturally, symmetrically edged. Scent gets me hard. Size 12. Twenty-four. Every other surface (dark black hair) perfect. Perfect scent. You drink steadily Absolut Cape Cod That monstrosity, what’s it called, she said. The Pomapdour Center? Yeah that’s it. Great Rivers cardboard sculpture. KJ your 6-foot 140 pound twink …

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Poetry: “Things Coyote Would Like,” by Davy Knittle

a respectable turkey sandwich vanilla frosting cinnamon jawlines sheep shorn in quicksand pinewood sheds duck feathers leg flesh telephone calls from the desert garbage cactus pear ice cream calluses on the pads of your hands dance about weather systems flat feet sand around the rim of a water glass the ecology of salamanders lemongrass tea …

Poetry: “What Might Reasonably Be Called People,” Nick Lehner

Something from the comic books— yes, that’s a good beginning. We’ll start out unreal and fantastic, turning dark and graphic in time. Fantastic. Shazam, kapow. Inset—a face with tears puddling, unrealistic eyepools of sorrow, balloon filled with Father! father! or exclamations equally italicized and important. Some thing of import, so that later when blood burbles …