Line Drawings by Weston Cutter

Four Poems by Christopher Kempf

Two Poems by Jennifer Givhan

Yellowed by Steven D. Schroeder

Origin of Glass by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo

Water and Island by Jennifer Sperry Steinorth

Two Poems by Corey Van Landingham

When I Died by Fire by Scott Beal

Two Poems by Airea D. Matthews



Failure by Glen Pourciau

Stephanie Says by Alain Douglas Park



Two Americas, Two Poetics by Kate DeBolt



Krithika Sathyamurthy


(click to view full-size images)



September 13th, a bright diamond-shaped light appeared in the sky
above all of central New Mexico


I’ve found the warmth Mama left in her bed
when she rose to watch the sun making pink sheets
of clouds through her window.
The balloon is risen above earth’s atmosphere
collecting celestial gamma rays
where our imperfect sight cannot reach
and then the sun is too bright;
she closes her eyes, and I can tell
she’s imagining herself in that unmanned
balloon. I want to say the instrument is already
in you, cosmic & infinitesimal… but she moves
her face behind a curtain, the moment arrives
and is gone. That light, her light,
while it was rising, lent meaning to the sky.


So we continue—the birds with their funny
pointed beaks, their ancient flapping. A child
born to rescue us. In Sunday mass
I would fix my gaze on Mary in her blues,
Mary prone at his bloody feet as I sang we will soar
but God must have known what I meant.
It’s not as if the sky is empty for me now—
even on the coldest mornings
in New Mexico, they rise
as lanterns in our land of enchantment
they rise, in jewel-tones or flag
stripes, in the oldest human-carrying
flight, with their chambers of air, they rise, burning
air into their bright billows.
My favorite resembles a sparrow.