The Blog

Note / Envoy

Zach Savich


To say it and it won’t become information

Fruit sour before ripening, then sour and ripe


Anything starts in medias res if you say it

Leaving your house, even the cut grass smelled of basil



I didn’t get around to mailing
The book so read it myself again 

In sufficient snow
The widest street becomes a one-lane road
What will I miss last

trash exotica/roissy mcdonalds/red orange/radiant orchid

Kirsten Ihns

sufficiently decent pillow microfiber

child in a happy shirt gives his brother
a happy balloon

i am the             queen
of this trashcan
everyone looks in my eyes            then down
before they throw their things away

every city needs a service to destroy
its unattended objects

i propose they burn everything
except the plastic
said my fantastic
french hot carpool driver

he wants to move to réunion

& do their trash advising

he has excellent zippers
on his sweater

and a bathroom full of orchids


The Fox

Liam O'Brien

This constant changing. Strange, new—honey locust

making a copper carpet on the grass.

A wave is rolling underneath: the past

gets bigger, different. More, and more, and less

myself. Dreaming today, I took a fox

to safety, though he struggled. Corridor

of green. Limited vistas, choices. Luck

On Marriage

Kevin A. González

Together, at dusk, we empty the compost.

If only my people could see me now:

misting the moonwalkers, fishing lost

shards of eggshell out of the muck.  Somehow

I have become a person who does this.

And after the last thread of light has slipped

through the fence and you shed your hat and strip


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