RIVER ADAMS Andrew told me later they’d just wanted me to hear a familiar melody, a familiar language. They didn’t speak Albanian, so they brought whatever melody they came across—exotic, intricate. Rhythmic. I knew the song: it was a ballad about murder and lost love.
RICHIE HOFMANN The streets are named for German poets / in my huge provincial Midwestern city. / Dust whirls up from the tires of passing cars, / lifting a veil over me, like Romantic longing. On Goethe, I want nothing / more than to reach down and feel a lover’s big skull
JENNIFER JEAN What if there were no light, he wondered. / Just sound & scent owning the night, without the invasive / Surf Shop green neon, or PCH streetlamps glowering at everyone. / Their glint was wrong, false, while the waves sounded / like aloe on a burn, a quick fix.