Reader, I hope this finds you in an enchanted forest, a marshmallow cloudscape, a bioluminescent cavern, or any place where you feel comfortable and safe. Please enjoy the wonders collected in our eleventy-first issue, including poems from Zackary Sholem Berger, Felicity L. Rollin, DS Maolalai, and Askold Skalsky, stories from David Stevens and Nikolaj Volgushev, and cover art by Carocta.
There’s not much of this cursed year left, but there’s still time to share the pieces we nominated for this year’s Pushcart Prize!
“Amid the Frolicking Penguins” by Robert Garnham
“The Youngest Cannibal Returns to Texas After Her First Semester of College” by Anne Gresham
“Ferryman” by Laura Parker
“Bayonne Bridge” by A E Weisgerber
Congratulations to all of our fabulous nominees, and please rest assured that we did actually mail these out on time, and it’s only our communication of this to the world that is running a little behind.
For more good readin’, keep an eye out for next issue, which will appear in January; meanwhile, our most recent issue is always available to delight you.
We know. But—this is important—despite everything, you’re still here. We are, too. With words to revive your exhausted and snacky spirits. From A. E. Weisgerber, there’s “Bayonne Bridge,” a gorgeous sestina that must be read aloud to be fully appreciated. (Trust us; your cat will love it.) Next, Miles Greaves ponders “The Identity of Indiscernibles” in a voice that feels contemporary yet Poesque, and we suspect Edgar Allan would grudgingly concede the grotesque imagery is streets ahead. Sergey Gerasimov spins a surprising and well-paced fairy tale “About People of Glass and Stone,” while Hamdy Elgammal slowly tips the floor beneath your feet in the surreal creeper “Broadside.” Completing the issue is a refreshing palate-cleanser of a haiku from Nick Corvino. Plus, scary-fun cover art “Rise and with the Valkyries Fly” by our amazing production editor, Samuel Snoek-Brown.
We never really trusted the old normal, and we sure as hell aren’t gonna let them drop this new one in our pumpkin holes without a fight. Normal is for suckers. Keep being beautifully, earnestly, incandescently weird.