Stephen Cramer
Choice

Stephen Cramer - Choice

Poetry
Stephen Cramer’s first book of poems, Shiva’s Drum, was selected for the National Poetry Series and published by University of Illinois Press. Bone Music, his sixth,won the Louise Bogan Award and… Read more »
Robin Gow
Fetch

Robin Gow - Fetch

Poetry
Robin Gow is a trans and queer poet and Young Adult author from rural Pennsylvania. Robin is the author of the chapbook Honeysuckle by Finishing Line Press and the collection Our Lady of Perpetual… Read more »
Lis Sanchez
My Solitude Is Not as It Once Was

Lis Sanchez - My Solitude Is Not as It Once Was

Poetry
Lis Sanchez has poetry in Plume, The Puritan, Prairie Schooner, Cincinnati Review, Harvard Review Online, The Bark, Copper Nickel, and elsewhere. She is the recipient of a North Carolina Arts Council… Read more »
James McKean
Reasons to Plant Raspberries

James McKean - Reasons to Plant Raspberries

Poetry
James McKean writes both poetry and non-fiction. He’s published three books of poems, Headlong, Tree of Heaven, and We Are the Bus, and two books of essays, Home Stand: Growing Up in Sports, and… Read more »
Jarid McCarthy
The Maiden Speaks from a Willow Root

Jarid McCarthy - The Maiden Speaks from a Willow Root

Poetry
Jarid McCarthy is a poet and playwright residing in Southern California. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Foglifter, Night Music Journal, Surfaces, and Old Youth Magazine. He is the creator… Read more »
David Bergman
The Man Approached by Dead Lovers

David Bergman - The Man Approached by Dead Lovers

Poetry
David Bergman is Professor Emeritus of English from Towson University and the author or editor of twenty books. Next year Black Spring Press will publish his first two murder mysteries, Unassisted… Read more »

The Man Approached by Dead Lovers

David Bergman

The dead he once made love to often return to check on him, and to show off how they’ve grown no older or weaker than when they last had sex. He, of course, suffers mortality’s predictable losses that they’re far too polite to mention. Instead they smile and wink and lay bare parts of their flesh to prove they remain as desirable as ever. They seem glad to be out of the underworld, and able to show off to the living what they preserved out of sight, in the timeless vault of the imagination. In the garret of his mind he finds the color-field painter stretching his skin like raw canvas across his sturdy frame, and in the kitchen the waiter whose succulent lips pucker like a guppy’s in a fishbowl. In the bathroom waits the hairdresser whose chest is as thick as an old-growth forest, clicking his scissors like castanets as he dances on the tiled floor. But the dead, though gorgeous, are not interested in seduction. They might unbutton their shirts down to their navels, but they never take them off. Nudity is reserved for life and not for these post-mortal encounters. The dead who contact him are…
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