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Vol. 2, No. 3 Contents

Tough All Over  by CRAIG BUTLER

2 September 2002
fiction, flash fiction

The enamel market isn't what it used to be. And with the cost of raw materials up through the roof, I don't know how much longer I can stay in this business. Profit margins can only shrink so much, you know.

When You Got Somebody  by CLINT MEADOWS

2 September 2002
fiction, flash fiction

Twenty minutes until my brother's wedding and I'm drunk and my mouth is hot and thick with vomit.

Like Lightning  by ELIZABETH ROUTEN

2 September 2002
fiction, short story, editors' select

Ellie, barefooted, has just stepped on a wasp. She doesn't feel it at first—not for the quick pangs of summer heat radiating off the gravel drive—but soon an ache travels up her leg and she lets out a shriek…

White Flight  by PAUL A. TOTH

2 September 2002
fiction, short story

Five years ago, my dad died.

Ruined Light Prologue  by NICK ANTOSCA

2 September 2002
poetry

Another summer Tuesday and I'm aimless,
sleepy in the dry backyard, mind occupied
by dreams of blotter acid and sodomy. When I
try to sit up, chest tingling where the heat baked it…

The Night Is Thinking and Eating  by NICK ANTOSCA

2 September 2002
poetry

Moths, crumpled scraps of beige-brown velvet,
discard themselves randomly
on the porch's chipped paint,
earnestly settling their brown wings.

A Bruegel in Vienna for a Friend in Kiev  by ROBERT GIBBONS

2 September 2002
poetry

Nothing reluctant, the singing,
the kissing, the blind
love in rhythm,
in sync with…

Amman, 1997  by MAYA PINDYCK

2 September 2002
poetry, editors' select

The blood stain on the chair
in our bedroom at the four-star hotel
does not bother me.

From Georgette (Without Regret)  by MAYA PINDYCK

2 September 2002
poetry

This is the box I am putting you in:

Clamorous piano.
Vegetarian meathead…

Mural of a Broken Curfew  by SHELLY REED

2 September 2002
poetry

She's queasy over orange juice
and muffin batter rising
while shots of booze
she can't recall names for…

Three  by SHELLY REED

2 September 2002
poetry

you are the urinal
in which men piss infidelity
when wives demur sex

Brautigan's Guts  by MATTHEW W. SCHMEER

2 September 2002
poetry, light verse

Hey, Richard,
the rug
got dirty…

Moving  by MATTHEW W. SCHMEER

2 September 2002
poetry

It's the last box, the last chair,
the last look at the place—
the history shared with four walls,
a roof, a floor.

Notes from the Lake #10  by BRANDON SHIMODA

2 September 2002
poetry, prose poem

In the twilight of things, pressed up against the acres of glass, with our bodies beneath: we walked to the place where the deer had woven themselves into the trees. The grass mounded white, the light receding.

Notes from the Lake #2  by BRANDON SHIMODA

2 September 2002
poetry, prose poem

After days of silent glow, nearing the kneaded air and pacing out the things that I wanted to say, I saw you—we met—like two birds along the paths by the water, between which was haze and wood.

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