Poetry
Winter 2007
Naval Weapons Station
Today the labyrinth's bullhorn sounds like a foghorn. Seagulls sail over forests of ropeless masts. The river laps fallen NO SWIMMING signs shot full of rust by duck hunters or […]
Nonfiction
Summer 2005
Charles Simic’s Dark Nights of the Soul
“The prologues are over,” Wallace Stevens declared at the beginning of his poem “Asides on the Oboe.” “It is a question, now, / Of final belief. So, say that final […]