Summer 1998 Edition Selections
by Susan Wood
She was ready to burst
into blossom that spring day
we picked her up after school
and she couldn’t wait to tell
what she’d learned. . . .
by Bruce Beasley
There, in the misprints and vacant
syntax of the proofreaders’ spoils,
even the word disfiguring disfigured,
in the trail of twelve misspellings, . . .
by James Spencer
The pilgrims are waiting for lunch in the dining room of the Ashreya Hotel in Bangalore, South India. Their leader, Pearl, sits at one end of the banquet table with eleven pilgrims on one side and thirteen on the other. Bannister has counted. Bannister will count the number of cars parked in a block, the number of windows in a hotel, the number of chapatis on a plate. Greta has offered to let him count the hairs on her head.
by James McKean
If I had thought about it beforehand, a fifteen–foot radius means a thirty-foot flash, but the tube and its sizzle had already plopped into the gravel. Then exploded. Filled every sense, ears boxed and ringing, breath blown out, a slap in the face, my eyes pitted with orange and red, two bright circles I saw everywhere I looked. The echo of bludgeoned air rolled down the campus hill into Pullman. No toy did that to your heart.
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