sabbath

by Sweigh Emily Spilkin you forgot that it was possible too bogged down in the myth of industriousness to value broken how certain artists make ordinary beauty from their shame the way words collect haphazard beneath the bed the way dust makes sure we know a moment is...

January 2006

by Sweigh Emily Spilkin you are in the middle of a transformational process she said which began 24 human months ago does that mean it’ll end and if so how there are no guarantees I told my almost lover it was cold by the window and he walked away I wanted to too but...

Infiltration

by Sweigh Emily Spilkin Driving down the canyon, sun slanted, squinting, listening to Joan Didion talk about her faith, it occurs to me: this is not death, this is moving on. I repeat it over and over, never having learned this before, attempting to lay down new...

about faith

by Sweigh Emily Spilkin 1. Shana Tova. How has it been? he asks, the beautiful man with the sad eyes who I see each year on this day, in the same spot, his tallis on his shoulders, his white kipah covering his head. Rough, I say. Rough makes for good art, he replies,...

Via Dolorosa

by Beau Riley aria 1. Holding David’s hand while the fever takes him is like a drug rush, or like the Chorale of Beethoven’s Ninth, or like Queequeg and Ishmael skittering across the waves wherever Moby wills. Our being tatters off in the wind: the godly...