From the Archive: Jen Currin (CAROUSEL 20)

From the Archive: Jen Currin (CAROUSEL 20)

JEN CURRIN A Bat Unveiled In the museum of land mines,my acquaintance fans her wings.Outside the sparrows catch fire.A tree falls to its knees.I become the sudden murderer,unable to recognize the radishesof my hands. The dictionary shudders. Again I cannot bealone. What is left of beautyI sop up with a napkin, believingit a limited supply. My only reading materialgives in to the blaze. And now I burn the legsof the chair, lest they touchthe ground.

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From the Archive: Ed Pien (CAROUSEL 19)

From the Archive: Ed Pien (CAROUSEL 19)

Against Entropy — ED PIEN Portfolio There is something instinctual about visiting the well of inspiration. Thirst is a need, and as a need, it cries out to be satiated. Who amongst us can resist the invisible call of our base drives? Pretend or distract, need still eventually finds a way to be served. Need brings out the animal, puts the human in his place. When animal logic takes over, every gesture moves towards potential

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From the Archive: Michael Aird (CAROUSEL 19)

From the Archive: Michael Aird (CAROUSEL 19)

MICHAEL AIRD For Seamus stem entrancemeshed to the cold hollowwhere your words vicareda clock heatawhile, saturated forward like I tinkered victim mechanicsthe resemblance of kept recordsbricks through glass paneimprints soft tissue so much knotted truthhoisted as black flagsabove the antechamber, antiravelour impulse bundle exhaledwithout bloodshed silence hardens over unlooked forthe proof drive stood hinge to our previous alsoits graft welcome waitsto wave us in For Seamusappeared in CAROUSEL 19 (2006) — buy it here

From the Archive: Robin Patterson (CAROUSEL 19)

From the Archive: Robin Patterson (CAROUSEL 19)

ROBIN PATTERSON The Woods Behind my Father’s House I have been lost in these woods before.I have seen this tree, scarred and twisted,and not recognized it.My feet have paced this unfamiliar pathtripping over roots that were never there. The spaces between the trees are dark and forbidding.The ferns at my feet fill the unfamiliar forest floorand grow as high as my waist,hiding a whole other world under their fronds.I keep my hands close to my

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From the Archive: Emily Schultz (CAROUSEL 19)

From the Archive: Emily Schultz (CAROUSEL 19)

EMILY SCHULTZ Level 2: Frogger (excerpt from Joyland) Illustration by NATE POWELL PLAYER 1 After Joyland closed, the youth of South Wakefield had nothing to do but concoct ways to kill each other.       Tammy sent home long ago, J.P. and Chris sprawled on the curb opposite the arcade, leaning back on their hands, drinking grape pop. Over the course of the night, the misplaced patch of boys grew in the stretch of cement in front

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From the Archive: Anne Baldo (CAROUSEL 18)

From the Archive: Anne Baldo (CAROUSEL 18)

ANNE BALDO Like Money Everyone Will Use You & It Won’t Even Matter Stuck on the tongue,sour,like the pillyou cannot swallow your wordsare meaningless asfragmented hieroglyphicsyou talk in the calligraphyof valentines — beautiful but wasted. So don’t apologizefor your absenceas you walk awaydon’t say remembering people is so hard. Reduce usto a mere glitch of the heart. I will wait for youbut in the arms of other men. Like Money Everyone Will Use You …appeared

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From the Archive: Renée Hartleib (CAROUSEL 18)

From the Archive: Renée Hartleib (CAROUSEL 18)

RENÉE HARTLEIB Cat and Mouse Brenda imagined awful things. Chronically predisposed to what a friend called “catastrophizing,” she often awoke in the middle of the night with her heart racing, sure that she had heard a noise, sure that someone had broken into the house to rape and kill her. She was suspicious of wrong numbers. She checked for people following her. She startled easily.       Brenda was, however, shocked the day she came home from

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From the Archive: bill bissett (CAROUSEL 18)

From the Archive: bill bissett (CAROUSEL 18)

BILL BISSETT ther was a strangr cum 2 town   that longpurpul nite      all th kiyots gone 2 sleepevreewun was krashd yu cudint see a thingth fog was sew cum in th smothring blankit th knarlee perls inth sky   promising whatyu cud nevr get heer sum say ther was abarn door   creek   in th aweful moon lite   sumherd a roostr crow   way b4 dawn  ther was astrangr cum 2

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From the Archive: Allison Chow (CAROUSEL 17)

From the Archive: Allison Chow (CAROUSEL 17)

ALLISON CHOW Some Three Hours in the Evening of August Sixteenth When I Am Nineteen One of my grandfathers looks like a Chinese Dustin Hoffman. He has gotten more handsome with age. When we go out to restaurantson SaturdaysI open doors for himbecause he is decades olderthan I ambut morebecause my reverencefor him cannot be containedsilentlyor only within me. Really it is my honourto open doors for him. Some Three Hours in the Evening…appeared in

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From the Archive: J.R. Myers (CAROUSEL 17)

From the Archive: J.R. Myers (CAROUSEL 17)

J.R. MYERS The Last Snowman It was a battle again; Ray pushing and demanding, never satisfied because he didn’t know what he wanted; Ethel pining to be left alone, wanting nothing more than to gaze at old familiar things and daydream.       “It’s no use your moping around,” Ray scowled when his wife refused to come outside with him.       “And it’s no use your storming around like a bull in a china

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From the Archive: Dunja Lukic (CAROUSEL 16)

From the Archive: Dunja Lukic (CAROUSEL 16)

DUNJA LUKIC December 1992 I. It was in the shadows of a dark first winterwhen the stars were frozen in the night domeand even with our spinningwe couldn’t shake them from the skyheld our hungry mouths openwaiting for those falling universes to explode on our tongues expectant hoping our bellies would be swollen with stars. II. With wide seven year old eyes that same winter the sky was colorless it was snowing I saw stars

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From the Archive: Dan Wells (CAROUSEL 16)

From the Archive: Dan Wells (CAROUSEL 16)

DAN WELLS Spare Change There he was, once again. Sitting on his bench, clothed in a knatty white dress shirt, collar curling like a dead leaf, dress pants cinched so tight they ballooned. He had a build for begging, emaciated limbs striking right angles, threatening to poke new holes in his clothing. He smiled at Paul, wished him a good morning. Paul scowled, locked the door behind him. Beggars were never good for business.       

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