Editor's Note




Book Review

Contributors' Notes


Mekiya Walters

We Are From the Sea

Inside ocean/outside ocean (we are from the sea (we are from the sea (we are from the sea Salt cell develops envelopes in seaweed's lee, (we are from the sea Sea stage makes aching plays on primal keys—oh you—oh me— (we are from the sea Act one, scene one, enter ancient you to ancient me, (old shallow sea Build a forest, spin a spinal tree for me, string a nerve from there to me, and make it green, and make the ocean me Axon and myelin, and dive a mile into me, drive a current into current me (we are from the sea Act one, scene two, ancient you, envelop ancient me (intermediate sea Make the mussels' muscles move beneath the soupy cells and tangled gel of me, Make a movement, make a plea to me, slide filaments and show me, show me, show me! how to see! Actin on myosin in cytoplasmic deep by blue degrees, oh hands, oh knees of me (we are from the sea Act one, scene three, act on my ocean, current you to current me, no longer uncreated me, I see, Act on my eye line, ocean skyline, building breeze, oh building blocks of me (we are from the sea Action, my ocean, act on my eyelid, make a mess of me, make a salty seasoned breeze (of me), and see (that we are from the sea Act one, end scene, exit you, exit excited me, oh, exit into breeze, Act on my salted, easy tongue, my sea, return me to the ocean's motion, ocean me, (for we are from the sea Ax on my—oh!—shin, ax, oh act on me, draw my axons from their sheath—oh—set them free— oh no oh no oh no! my ocean, act on me, Oh wind, unwind my actin fibers, free them, freedom, set them farther free, make a motion of dispersion, my ocean, un-myosin me, And make a sated salty easy sea of me of me of me of me of me of me, build new creatures, blocks, keys, locks, spines—unlock a new design, oxidize the ancient accident—again, then— (we are from the sea (we are from the sea (we are from the sea (we are from the sea (we are still from the sea

Strange Kitchen

In a strange kitchen, cooking strange meals on dirty plates to serve in the peeled orange light— cutlery on the right, or wherever—napkin in the dirt, can hurt, but won't this time. Have your party on the stairs— bite down on a muscle— just trust the trestle to hang the walls right. Scrutinize necklines— better mirror next time. Run with a sponge and munch on a stale snack— corn black— corner sister with a cast arm— cast iron in the lemons— I never broke a plate. Agriculture in the stains— spill milk-light through the morning— placate the tattooed mother, imagining noses at a melted window— smudged bread, old pimento— giving sandwiches and nose rings, neighbors say nothing, Pollock with the pancake batter— doesn't matter. I'll glue your broken plates. Dirt holds the walls up— six open beers, plus bent caps— peach table, peppermint Schnapps— vinegar's vital for the cake! better with no nose— I know where the soap goes— laugh everyone goodnight. I'll put it away In the morning's ashtray— curtain watch for headlights. Wait for the last door to close— hair, a little on the burnt side. Night's at high tide. Loosen laces on a lung's corset— I'm still in your orbit, but I'm no people plumber— some pipes still freeze in summer. I saw a Rorschach angel on the unscrubbed plate— fungus tealeaves— measured fates— not even you can make a plate out of glue.