Dead-of-Night Blossoms

By R. ZAMORA LINMARK

 

Books burning 3:39 a.m.

Chapter 6, Don Quixote.

 

Touch-me-nots

Wilting-in-progress.

 

Aspire à la Ashbery

Devote to the Impossible.

 

Darling, did you dry-

Clean my martini?

 

Proceed with caution:

Grief under repair.

 

 

[Purchase Issue 13 here]

R. Zamora Linmark’s new poetry collection is Pop Verite. He lives in Manila.

Julia PikeDead-of-Night Blossoms

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Rivendell

JULIA PIKE
Finally, it was finished: a hulking, rustic cube of gray-painted wood with huge windows all along the front. In daylight, the house looks haunted—a gray shack with empty dark eyes—but at night, when the yellow lamps are on in the living room and the chimney tosses sparks out into the night sky, the house beckons you in from the cold. The parents were all Tolkien fans, and so they called the house Rivendell: the last safe place for the elves.

Notes on the Inner City book title

Friday Reads: June 2017

We love any excuse to hear from our contributors! This month, our Issue 13 authors and poets tap into their literary communities as they recommend works by colleagues, friends, and Pulitzer Prize winners. United in their affection, the authors are nonetheless divided by their selections, as their choices shed light upon nowhereness, colonization, and Florida oranges.

Good Boys

MEGAN FERNANDES
Once in a car, a good boy / shook me hard. If you like it / that way in bed, then why are you… / the tiny bruises on my arms / where his prints pressed into my pink/ sleeves rose to the surface like rattles. / Like requests. They thrived there / for a week until they settled /