Chris Allison


Not Reaching to Hold Anything by Jeff Hardin

    One              willow at the field edge—                                     after weeks away                           I want to wander toward the shape                                     of its meandering                                                pantomime against the sky,              slow in my own motions, as though life—              the ruminative feel of it—                                     could be experienced bodily,                           felt in the soles of my feet,                                     clutched […]


Fragments by Jackson Holbert

    I We dipped our shoulders beneath the heat and found whiskey in the earth. Cars passed. Passengers stared. And still darkness eased its way across the scabland. And still we persisted. II Grandma, dead at eighty of emphysema, who scoured the reservoirs for arrowheads, speaks, tells me “no, […]


Having Weighed the Only Words I Hold by Jeff Hardin

    I’m              that man on the rooftop                                     others mistake for a jumper—                             but I am here only to see                                     the skyline closer                                                and to get above              the doorposts before the angel passes by. Nobody              quite believes me, though,                                     for all my words having fallen                           past usefulness.                                     I pick […]


This Body is a Body Collapsing by b: william bearhart

    I did not panic when I drove my truck into a ditch of trees.             Snap of birch, crack of branch, there is no sound for this in space.             Maybe I was too drunk        or too alone                                                                too much stardust nostalgic for everything that was nothing                                 before that big bang […]