the oldest stories, the sharpest peaks and deepest holloways. sunlight, spate, and
limestone. green hands in the water.
poetry
ROCK HUNTING AT HORSE HEAVEN HILLS
FAITH ALLINGTON
We come for agate
and obsidian,
the cracked fire
of opals.
GHOSTS OF SUMMER
JENNIFER SKOGEN
bright stitches quilt blankets for ghosts—
— nets of starlight and yearning to insulate against snowfall.
STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER
F.D. JACKSON
believing the sun god has abandoned them to certain root rot death, they pray to him for intercession--farmer--akhenaten.
SHIFTING LENSES
BETHANY CUTKOMP
Among freckles and skin
existed biospheres condensed to irises.
HARD TIMES
JOHN GREY
Tadpole corpses float to the surface.
Human remains go deeper underground.
REFLECTIONS ON WILD BOAR
JIM DANIELS
His thick hand could swallow anyone’s in warm greeting
as if the earth itself was rising in welcome.
He did not read the stars. He read the clouds and wind.
AGKISTRODON
JESSICA SWANSON
broad heads and plated crowns—
a monarchy of short fangs in pale mouths
WE SIT BY THE RIVER DRINKING COKE
LYNN FINGER
At first you want to cut it in two with a shovel.