BIOGRAPHY: Kai Carlson-Wee
"When the stories are finished, the fire burned down / to a puddle of glittering coals, the guy they call / Spider Eyes picks up a stick and starts smacking / the side of a log."
BIOGRAPHY: Susan Austin
"How he must have moved swiftly / or not, from room to room / choosing the necessary accomplices: / a rope, a sturdy attachment, the chair."
BIOGRAPHY: Mario Alejandro Ariza
"Now not a single tree left on the border between brother and brother, now “Fuera los Haitianos,” secure the frontera kill the charcoal hawkers, sharecroppers, play those genocide blues again you sad and shriven isle."
BIOGRAPHY: Tanya Larkin
"I call you honeybee not because you’re sweet, but because you’re a great conversationalist, always ready with a question or folding in the stranger."
BIOGRAPHY: Ally Harris
"If the wind blows, if I fall from the ridge, I have a couple seconds to reason, this is just a dream. What happens after doesn’t matter. Anyway, existence is the drug of the dead."
BIOGRAPHY: Kristina Martino
"I started a rumor in myself, a l’oeil de trompe, / a trickling of romp and rook, and it took. // And it took."
POEM: Not Hurting
BIOGRAPHY: Soren Stockman
"Your eyes pummeled a hole / clean through the street we walked on, / and you filled it / with not hurting me, / and then threw a match on that, / and the not hurting went up like dry leaves."
FICTION: A Very Beautiful Country
BIOGRAPHY: Derrick Martin-Campbell
"After working a six-to-six stacking bags of dry cement along the river, Pablo and Lalo shouldered their packs and hiked out to the bucolic edge of town, destinationless and encouraged by the first warm day of spring."
ESSAY: Tiny Shipwreck
BIOGRAPHY: Marcia Aldrich
"And so I threw my ring over the side of the ferry into the Puget Sound where it will never be seen again sifting down through the underwater valleys and ridges, the basins and sills to a depth of at least 600 feet."
ESSAY: Butterfly People
BIOGRAPHY: Steffan Triplett
"In grade school we grew monarchs in plastic bins. We sat in rows, learning times tables in exchange for ice cream toppings. Each day was simple, each day was boring, until the last."
ESSAY: The Middle Stone
BIOGRAPHY: Steven Moore
"The boundary between the countries was marked by a heavy chain slunk across the road. When it rained, the dirt of the road turned to mud and the chain sunk into the mud. Gateway, then, referred to the Gate, which referred to the chain, which referred to the idea that this spot upon the road was the very edge of the war, which of course it wasn’t."