WEB FEATURES.

POETRY.

I Have a Theory About Reflection

by Renée Ashley

I cannot put my mother in the freezer and neither can I store her/ in the attic nor in the bank nor in the canister of sugar In (...)

Asking of the Bird What it Cannot Offer

by Laura Van Prooyen

The grackles could be a figment. so too, the outdoor café / and the couple under the tre that clatters with noise (...)

FICTION.

Yeguas y Caballos

by Travis Klunick

It was late in the night but Larry sat on the old church pew that served for the bench on their porch and he watched the great cumulonimbus flare out over the plains, anviling tall into the night. The thunder came rolling over the creosote, as though somewhere out in that darkness a colossus stood billowing canvas out from him far into the heavy storm air. The first gusts of wind were just reaching the porch and he drank out of an old crockware pitcher full of mescal that Luis had brought him. The downdraft hit the house and Larry’s hat blew off and landed on the ground and the smell of rain came in rich and deep on the wind. The first drops began sounding on the tin roof of the house and Larry thought with his insides warm from the alcohol that it was fitting that there be storm outside as there was storm inside and he fell asleep out on the old church pew with the mescal on the ground beside him (...)

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IN THE SPRING 2009 ISSUE.

FROM OUR ARCHIVE: FALL 2005.

© 2009 University of North Carolina Greensboro