She walks the corridor, trailing her wedding dress. There's no bun in the oven, no love letter expiring on the coffee table, nothing sticky between her fingers. All afternoon she watched them curry the horses, the whish, seeing the oiled hide shiver under her skirt. No one imagines the safety pin in her bra strap….
Gropius and I came to America in 1937 from England. We had been in London on a Leave of Absence permit from the German government and it was by no means certain that we would be allowed to return to claim our belongings, which were at the time in Berlin in care of my sister….
The woman across the street bends over to pull a weed from her front steps. I set a fresh cup of coffee on the Help Wanted section and watch from my second-story kitchen window. She is married to a surgeon. It's a two-Mercedes family. She and the surgeon have two daughters. One married a lawyer…
You might see a thin air in early April part the long grass, bleached and laid back, to breathe on your nape, the backs of your hands. It might smell like a cellar, full of coffins and canning. You would not name it, since all names become one in that time, and would you speak…
Twenty-seven-year-old William E. Griffis, a native of Philadelphia, took a leave of absence from Rutgers Theological Seminary in the fall of 1869 in order to accept a three-year position as a teacher of natural science in Fukui, a Japanese feudal domain (feudalism ended in the fall of 1870) just beginning to modernize. Arriving in Yokohama…
EVENT: The caretaking lady next door was horsing around with the horse who wanted to kick her because he had a sore she was trying to put something on. It's an old Morgan, swaybacked, still beautiful in head and stride, but bored in retirement. It will come to the fence to say hello even to…
At first they repel me, the octopus cactus with its spines, the hedgehog cactus, cane cholla, prickly pear. They are ungainly like the organ pipe plant or hug the ground with their wooly heads, their ribs seamed with barbed wire. But lacking grace, they are graceful, like Wei Fei the archer who in his old…
There is a child sitting next to me on this ratty old train, and he is more or less mine. Anyone watching us would not think us an unlikely pair. A young woman travelling with a seven year old kid. Her son, they would assume. I'm old enough, though I never can believe that I…
MASTHEAD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editors for This Issue Anne Bernays Justin Kaplan Managing Editor Susannah Lee CONTRIBUTORS Randolph Bates is associate director of the writing program at the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. His poems and stories have appeared in Southern Review, New Orleans Review, Seattle Review, and others. Sissela Bok…
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