“The peephole is installed backward,” my one-night stand said as I sat up in bed. We were in his high-rise studio apartment. “I keep meaning to tape a piece of paper over it.” I thought about what this meant. A tiny aperture gave passersby in the hallway a fish-eye view into the bedroom. It wasn’t …
In Issue 20.2, one of our twentieth-anniversary issues, we present a special feature on where writing lives in Cincinnati. We reached out to six writers who are current or former residents of the city, giving them the following prompt: We’ve been thinking about Cincinnati as the site of intersections: of North and South, with the …
Sanctuary Sound effects are a parallel life made of common materials wood blocks for hooves et cetera I hear thunder above a prairie I know to be shaken aluminum I know there is a horse under it not needing to be fed or broken Diction Great wheel pushing the river behind it Under it the …
I Watching Black Sea sand draw away from your feet the lateness of faith—that teetering while slumped over a phone. That someone of the same hamlet knows little of it, of others of it. A menagerie of pottery shards and sheepskin. That a hermit is to others merely a country: a painting of a woman …
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