Triclinium
by Farryl Last
I told you about this place.
I told you about the sky outside, there
were cries, the tinsel-shake
of branches just beyond
the windows. The backlit
moon I’ve packed
solitary
blued and
illegal.
This hunger, it hungers.
These teeth.

 

On the Couch Asleep with the Sketches In His Lap
by Caleb Coy
He is sketching a house for our big move to Boulder when I hear back about the job, and I know I’m supposed to get home late and find him on the couch asleep with the sketches in his lap. I saw them once—a tall pavilion of totem poles, patio, cedar cabin, vents in the ground for geothermal heating. He saw a documentary on sustainable housing. He wanted to watch it again with me. He did not tell me when he bought a kayak, or about his subscription to Men’s Health. What first drew me to him was how he could find all the constellations, even point to them with his eyes closed. So while I’m returning and our sky is overcast and the skyline looks afire, I imagine him outlining and erasing. And I am to find him on the couch asleep with the sketches in his lap.

 

Or 
a palindrome
by Jessica Wingert
art by Sage Stafford
Do I exist?
I see things external to myself,
reconciling then distancing intention
from desire. Am I altogether myself? Entirely me,
not you and me both. Sight fashions meaning.
Our longing for answers bestows that sense of self-
consciousness. The question:
Reflection from existence
or existence from reflection?
Question the self-
consciousness of sense that bestows answers for longing.
Our meaning fashions sight: both me and you,
not me, entirely myself. Altogether,
I am desire from intention,
distancing then reconciling myself to external things.
See? I exist.
I do.