New World Writing Quarterly

Two philoso­phers walk into a bar. They wear robes, maybe some Grecian tex­tile that’s musty from long-term entomb­ment or maybe some clear­ance sheets from Bed Bath and Beyond.

“I’ll have a G & T,” the first philoso­pher –more

What If?

What if what you thought you saw
Had not even occurred?
As though there was a mag­ic act—
Some sleight of hand at work—
To deem you an accomplice,
But you nev­er remote­ly knew
Why the plan was devised for you.

What if they took you on a ride
In –more

Judging by the voice the girl might have been ear­ly twen­ties, per­haps still in her teens. She was com­ing in loud and clear from out front. Greg lived one off the front of his block. The place oppo­site had to be ful­ly forty metres away.

–more

RESISTANCE

A paper cut from the map was inoculation

All night the slick machine of the river
pol­ished shad and Frances the geographer
noticed the earth start­ing to slope down
to oxbows now eye­brows and resorts

We ran a slight fever to adapt

We passed through –more

Head in the Sky

My moth­er named the pines, each pine that came to mind. Pitch and short­leaf. White and loblol­ly. Spruce, red, table mountain.

Our bea­gle came back after weeks away. It was­n’t the first time she’d run off. She arrived on our –more

Tracks

You’re the way­ward one, aren’t you, said the teacher. I was sit­ting on my yoga mat, dis­tract­ed by a mag­a­zine. I think every­one in this room is offer­ing you respect, I said to her. I meant to give it. In a Little Free Library –more

I am suf­fer­ing from post-trau­mat­ic sink­hole syndrome.

I was awak­ened at 3:30 am last Thursday.

My broth­er said that my Audi 2013 was under water—in a sink­hole, where I had parked, in front of our house.

We went outside.

I was –more

there is a house on fire

there is a house on fire

don’t wor­ry,
it is not your house

it is not
your house

a beau­ti­ful house
a beau­ti­ful fire

a beau­ti­ful house
and a beau­ti­ful fire

a beau­ti­ful house on fire

so beau­ti­ful

look

keep look­ing

it is beau­ti­ful, isn’t it?

so beau­ti­ful

and –more

Monumento a Velázquez

Aniceto Marinas (stat­ue) Vicente Lampérez (pedestal), 1899

The celebri­ty fell in love with the Prado Museum. His spir­its had soared when he spot­ted the first ‘museo’ sign. He’d been ready for it: Rubens, The Three Graces, El –more

1. The Really Big Heart

Me and Kyoko dri­ve to Rochester and check into a hotel behind a din­er. Dangling above the bath­tub we find a human heart the size of a per­son. Slick with a shim­mer­ing, oily liq­uid, and beat­ing with an irreg­u­lar, stac­ca­to rhythm, the heart con­nects to –more

1. 77‑Y.O’s New [Perhaps Clichéd] Organizing Principle

Understanding
Life’s entropy
State
     After
Making trek
Higher up into
Age’s
      Himalayas
Where near air gets
–more

As a defen­sive mea­sure, Cullen had taped garbage bags to his win­dows. Black ones. Double lay­ered. He’d been awake since Tuesday. Hadn’t left the house since Friday.

He told me all this in a calm voice. Maybe a lit­tle amused –more

After the Plague

Dandelions rock­et­ed up
from side­walk cracks,
joy­ous, unrestrained,
seeds of sun­light in
fields of quiet.

And the fish multiplied
expo­nen­tial­ly, like
God promised in some
irra­tional book
of ancient fiction.

~

Encouragement

A mes­sage for the horse-faced boys and girls
–more

I missed the bus to Tapachula by 15 min­utes. There wouldn’t be anoth­er until the fol­low­ing morn­ing, the robot­ic woman at the tick­et counter told me. I was try­ing to cross before dark, remem­ber­ing the fright­en­ing scene at –more

I was just off my valet shift, 3 a.m., and I’d gone to a pan­cake house. This was in L.A., forty years ago. An old man land­ed in my booth, ka-thud.

He was one of the most famous movie actors of all time.

I didn’t –more

A boy loved a girl, and when he could no longer live with his secret, he reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. The task wasn’t easy, the crack of bone, the cleav­ing of meat and ten­dons. The heart lay in his hands, –more

EVERY ANIMAL

It’s a zoo with­out obvi­ous cages, the ani­mals run­ning wild. People warned to stay in their cars, keep the win­dows up. But the lions are sleepy – one falls like a sack in the grass. It’s the ante­lope who watch us through –more

Load

On a brisk, windy Friday night I’m stand­ing out­side a resort hotel’s entrance where Betsy and I have just had din­ner, wait­ing for the valet to bring our car around, Betsy inside away from the wind, all three lanes jammed –more

NWWQ invites sub­mis­sions in the first two weeks of Jan, April, July and October and pub­lish­es in those same months.

Many thanks to all who sub­mit­ted to the October issue.

We watch some­thing burn until we notice it’s our apart­ment. It’s where we’ve been liv­ing for the past few hours. Fortunately that means most of our stuff is still boxed up in the truck. No skin off our backs. We’re out on the sidewalk.

–more