ISSUE 6

New work by Patrick Rosal, Nathan Poole, Rachel Eliza Griffiths, Lee Sharkey, Nate Pritts, and many others.

ISSUE 5

Spring 2014

New work by Gregory Pardlo, Anna Claire Hodge, Alex McElroy, Wesley Rothman, and more

FWR Monthly: Three Poems by Benjamin Miller

Miller_Monthly

      IN THE PLACE OF BEST INTENTIONS

As this is not the land of ice packs
and regenerations, of spent glue guns

or antiseptic counters—since shy
reminders filter through the streets…

Three Poems by Brian Komei Dempster

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CROSSING

No turning back. Deep in the Utah desert now, having left one home
      to return to the temple of my grandfather. I press the pedal
            hard. Long behind me, civilization’s last sign—

The Burning by Peace Adzo Medie

Peace_Cover

The potholes in the road were filled with muddy water because it had rained the night before. Some of the holes, jagged around the edges, were the size of mini craters and every time we reached one, we stomped our feet in it and sloshed the brown water on each other. We roared in excitement…

IOWA
by Stephen Berg

shaving_small

When I think of it now I still see just how ugly and dirty the place was, what a bare unprotected monk-like life it was that year, living first in the old tire warehouse on the outskirts of town, no toilet or sink, no furniture, nothing except two ratty mattresses, fruit crates…

Three Poems by Sam Sax

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I.35

i watch him touch him self over a screen
and pretend it is with my hands

how you pull a quiver from an arrow.

he moans and i grow jealous of the satellites.

Maps by Patrick Lawler

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“Who was it who decided on where Tallahassee should be?” Toby asks questions, and we laugh a lot. Stupid things really. But it makes you think, and it helps to pass the time. He takes the money when people pump their gas, and I do most of the other things, like brake jobs, tires, and shocks. Mostly minor repairs, quick jobs that get a good price for the boss.

Three Poems by Collier Nogues

CollierbyJeff-Clapp

MISSISSIPPI

I know forgetting myself is a good thing, the best loss.
The trees look soft in the fog’s distance, egg-colored light
all over them. Even the sheep,   
eggy.
         The earth dries in ribs the rain has drawn on it.

Between the Lines: An Interview with Wesley Rothman

Wesley_Rothman

   In this installment of “Between the Lines” we talk with Issue 5 contributor Wesley Rothman about poetic process, the creative relationships between different art forms, and poetry’s place in contemporary culture.

Story About a Woman I Used to Know by Jozefina Cutura

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Milena always reminded me of a backdrop to a bleak landscape, a woman unlikely to arouse much conscious consideration, though she hovered around like an uncertain but inescapable future punishment. She popped in and out of our lives at random, insignificant moments. There was, for instance, that typically drab October afternoon in Frankfurt.