Article

  • The Lull

    for Allen Tate                  Through a loose camouflage      Of maples bowing gravely to everyone In the neighborhood, and the soft, remote barrage      Of waterfalls or whispers, a stippled sun            Staggers about our garden, high      On the clear morning wines of mid-July.                  Caught on a lifting tide      Above a spill of doubloons…

  • Contributors’ Notes

    MASTHEAD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editors for This Issue Tim O'Brien DeWitt Henry CONTRIBUTORS RICHARD BAUSCH is working on a novel, Coldest Season, and teaches at Northern Virginia Community College. PHILIP DAMON has had stories in Antaeus, Iowa Review, Transatlantic Review, Hawaii Review, Best American Short Stories and elsewhere. He teaches at the…

  • August

    The afternoon air is so still and heavy with heat everyone in the house has gone off to nap. I let the tap water run a while over my finger tips waiting for the cold stuff to come from the spring. Bulkhead clouds appear in the kitchen window, comically      grand. Time settles over the edges…

  • Letters From a Father

    1. Ulcerated tooth keeps me awake, there is such pain, would have to go to the hospital to have it pulled or would bleed to death from the blood thinners, but can’t leave Mother, she falls and forgets her salve and her tranquilizers, her ankles swell so and her bowels are so bad, she almost…

  • Hunting With My Father

    When I was a boy we always did it this way. I wake to the smell of coffee and you are at the fire, its flames mirrored in your glasses. Buck, the Colonel’s dog, sleeps on beneath the bunk house his old legs quivering with problems of their own. The raw south Texas dawn is…