Poetry: “Ghosts Come,” by Jane Wiseman
In the blackout storm, our wings
shear through ravages of cloud
seen only in flashes. Compassing
our trackway toward you, we wheel
into dirty weather.
UChicago's Oldest Literary Magazine
In the blackout storm, our wings
shear through ravages of cloud
seen only in flashes. Compassing
our trackway toward you, we wheel
into dirty weather.
Snow leopards are graceful animals with soft fur
the students type over and over again as well as
They live in the high rugged mountains of Tibet.
Does each word imprint like the leopard’s paw
set down in stealth on the cold white world where
I am looking out the window with my classical on as I ponder the rigmaroles of existence discussing such with the most fascinating person I know.
Every time I feel I’ve made a valid point or observation during my ongoing convo I like to whip off my glasses to add further emphasis
while highlighting a point that’s been made salient and to add further punctuating resonance
All night (when isn’t it night?) the flat fields sleep unsound,
the megacities spit and thrum with their overdrive generators,
babies shawled in naked terror howl for 24-hour shifts in test chambers.
Earth is round the way a cattle prod is round.
Electricity churns and spits, sprinting through Hell World, block after block.
Read More Poetry: “Prison Planet,” by Zack CarsonA poet I know lives on Noyes Street.
Not Dogma Drive
where what we see
is what we get,
but a neighborhood of wavicles, oscillations, uncertainties,
We present the Spring 2014 issue, fresh off the presses. Click on the image below to download a PDF.
Read More Spring 2014 Issue