Cincinnati Review

When at lastthe last fires burnt out upon the prairie,trains could be heard passing,mournful as whales. There’s no remedy to beingsecond-rate, I heard the brakeman sayas he & his red light were pulledforever into Missouri. But still I waitedfor you like a radio tower, blinkingquietly in the night. See more poems from Issue 17.1 by …

Kat Lewis’s “외계인 | Waygyein” is a heartbreaking meditation on the otherness inherent in being a stranger in a strange land.

Mary Ardery’s flash autofiction piece “Assistant Guide” gives the reader a glimpse into the addiction recovery community, where the specter of relapse, and its attendant violence, looms large.

ROSALIND: They say you are a melancholy fellow.JAQUES: I am so; I do love it better than laughing.—As You Like It Underneath this flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character.—Oscar Levant, An American in Paris Oscar Levant is a melancholy figure, full of barbed wit, self-loathing, and Rhapsody in Blue, which he performed more …

In her poem “Magnets” Laurie Clements Lambeth grapples with a reality familiar to people in extended quarantine: brain fog, a sensation she describes as “dulled, not knowing what was flesh or air or where—;”