Author: Heavy Feather

Two Poems for Side A: Jonathan Dubow

The Unwound The unwoundable wound will, willing, willing.The olive trees bull dozed (the unknowable being en acted), someone else’s mother with drawing, drawn out, writhing, writing, engraved. Midrash A comparison is necessary here.Possession, according to R’ Ahabic, suggests difficult,distant,without. According to R’ Aschre it suggests the hole,mask (shadow),and (what I thought) the name of another. Mini-interview…
“Ending’s Etiquette” by Lucy M. Logsdon: Poetry for Side A

Ending’s Etiquette First, I notice fine lines parenthesizingmy once full lips. I google wrinkles.Learn that over ten on one’s facemeans give the fuck up. A strong whitestreak appears in my bangs; I cut themoff. They return, spread into forbidden zones, smooth as scouringpads. Age spots my hands, forearms,chest, cheeks, thighs. At parties,I no longer command…
New Poetry for Bad Survivalist: “when i say i still think of you in august” by Cate Latimer

i mean that when i saw that truck full of chickens on highway 5, feathers grazing yellow lines, i wished on their mangled bodies and white wings pinned like fallen gods to the road. you taught me to do that. you, who left streaks of lipstick on my dashboard and playing cards in my center…
Poetry Review: Scott Ferry Reads Lauren Scharhag’s Collection Ain’t These Sorrows Sweet

In Lauren Scharhag’s collection Ain’t These Sorrows Sweet she succeeds in giving voice to “15,000 years” of ancestors, to the elders who forget how to draw clocks but whose names chime in music boxes, to the young nieces now mothers and mothers now childless, to the blood which flows within her and too easily out…
“Notes to the Girl Across the Street” by Zary Fekete: Fiction for Side A

Notes to the Girl Across the Street May 5, 1989 Hello … my name is Zoli. I am fourteen. I come from Hungary. I live in a small town called Nyárliget. It means “summer grove.” Your town is Sonnenalm. It means almost the same thing. I saw you in the window yesterday. You were fixing…
New Poetry by Matthew Johnson: “My Front Yard in Summer”

The Moon felt like a tingly blur on my skin, And as it gradually slid down my shoulder through my forearm,I tried to smack at it like it was a marsh mosquito, Or an arcade game of whack-a-mole. We soft tossed Wiffle balls when the sun went down,And the whistle of the breeze passing through the hollow,…
“A Trek through Working-Class Pennsylvania”: Nicole Yurcaba Reads Scott Dimovitz’s Novel The Joy Divisions

In Scott Dimovitz’s novel The Joy Divisions, Allentown, Pennsylvania, is not merely a geographic location or the novel’s setting. Yes, it is a place, but in Dimovitz’s book, Allentown is a living breathing entity, a character with a life and experiences entirely its own. The Joy Divisions draws on Allentown’s rich history as Pennsylvania’s third…
Original Side A Short Story: “The Hagiography of Agatka” by Zosia Koptiuch

The Hagiography of Agatka I really did think you were a saint. In the Polaroid I took of you, you stand in someone else’s room, holding someone else’s newborn. White dress dotted with tiny blue flowers. Nothing but boxes in the background. Reaching out, the baby’s hand lazily touches your cheek. You look down at…
Haunted Passages Flash Fiction: “Goatee” by Sarp Sozdinler

Your uncle is breastfeeding one of his goats in the yard, and you’re standing by his side, wondering what the right collective noun for baby goats would be. You remember goatee was the word your father used for that big hairy abomination on his face, his lips framed like a shelf placed on top of…