by Nick Tabone | Jun 30, 2020 | Non-fiction
‘People steer the same section all the time in daylight and in good visibility,’ the captain tells the third mate who is learning how to pilot this stretch of the river. We are in dense fog, down bound on the St. Clair River. ‘The mistake they...
by Nick Tabone | Jun 21, 2020 | Fiction, Non-fiction
In the late afternoon they went ashore to gather wood. He nosed the zodiac up onto the bank and when they heard the familiar scrape of sand and gravel beneath its hull the others jumped ashore. ‘There’s nothing to tie the painter...
by Nick Tabone | Jun 18, 2020 | Poetry
Toledo, Ohio He promises not one more poem about birds.No more over-wrought high sentence or hyper-bolic phrase describing their aspect or their flight. No anthropomorphisms or verbs like swoop, soar, wheel, dive, glide, or hover....
by Nick Tabone | Jun 17, 2020 | Poetry
The winter riv-er is a white page and Coyote has made a kill out on the ice. See the violent slash of red that inks the young doe‘s final progress. Watch Coyote’s haunches strain and flex and fur-row as he tears viscera from it’s skeletal housing, looking from here...
by Jon Banthorpe | Jun 13, 2020 | Poetry
When I eat a capersome atavistic remembranceburied deep in my DNA stirs,and the back of my skull fizzeslike an Alka-Seltzerdropped in a glass of water.I think of my forebears,Ashkenazi’s and Arabs,and their long journeyaround the Mediterraneanhundreds of years...
by Jon Banthorpe | Jun 13, 2020 | Poetry
the first chordsof the Grateful Dead’s Bertha blared.Over and over,like propaganda from loudspeakers in a communisttown square.
by Jon Banthorpe | Jun 13, 2020 | Poetry
Who knows the miles this deck has seen?The length and breadth of the downtown core,its sidewalks and streets, cambers and crevicesare as but water beneath a small ship’s bow.Atop its begripped back I’ve sounded outthe surfaces of this cities’ roads,like they were some...
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