bright day
clocks
nuzzled into his breast

LITERARY MAGAZINE

bright day
clocks
nuzzled into his breast

We stand at the door, a threshold between us


Did she ever know there was an ant

outside there’s puzzle pieces

My name is David Obuchowski, and I am the Guest Editor

an egg cracks as the fire crackles on


Living amidst so many words, and having to remember some non-words too, Abe tends to

I have a poem
it is cubist