Tag: Four Way Review
-
MR. BOSWELL PEELS AN ORANGE by Sarah Johnson
My wife’s marmalade is the best I’ve had. She peels and crushes the oranges herself, and for days the house smells of oranges’ beaten golden pulp. Under her persistent hands, the fruit submits. It becomes a vivid concentrate, textured with rind. Stored in jars, it will keep for months.
-
THE PRINTER by Jenny Doughty
All day he labours, polishing the plate (small, nondescript, whose eyes illuminate his workman’s face), picks up the burin, starts to etch out in reverse all but the heart of what he sees, carves worlds in words, carves tigers, devils, chimney-sweeps and birds.
-
BURGESS FALLS, TENNESSEE by Owen Lewis
Where the waters cut the gorge cut strata of soft stone where granite resists and holds itself against the water where the waters drop in sheets across the rock steps then plunge in white cascades like moving ice the liquid of glacial rumbling froths and pounds stone a heavenly and timeless pressure
-
AS IF I WERE ANYTHING BEFORE by Damian Rogers
Not all rocks are alive. Or so I’ve read. Someone I love is struggling, her thoughts caught in a net.
-
YES, I’M A WITCH by Damian Rogers
For Yoko Ono I dreamed there was a storm. When it cleared the sky said here is a half glass of water to see the seasons through. When I was a little girl Mother said I could be anything.
-
PREFACE by Rajiv Mohabir
Let’s pretend you are going hunting. You pack your gear: a buck knife, a bow and arrows cleft from the straight weeds, wild in my front yard. You perch in a red oak, yearning for those chilly mornings that signal harvest.