Winter 2015

Black Dog

She has pared her life to essentials. Heart failing, each breath taken seriously, walking is not mandatory except for brief trips out the kitchen door to pee in the snowy garden. Subscribe to read the full text.


I found them the summer I was eight. The nest took up the entire space inside the grill. It was a deep crater— twigs and mud woven into the metal grates. In the center were two blue eggs. My mother told me they were robins’ eggs. Subscribe to read the…


Across steel wastelands and graffiti faux life, abandonment on the low. Few lilies or fruit trees, but the sky hasn’t died over captivity in a cultural desert. Layers of years reappearing. Subscribe to read the full text.