Submission Guidelines The twentieth annual (and final) Dogfish Head Poetry Prize for the winning book-length manuscript by a poet...

In the ditch a deer carcass, no head from You Are Happy by Margaret Atwood It was a silent beauty I found, had yearling antlers, much...

The Bigness of the Herd I can never get over the bigness of the herd, the stampede of clouds cascading over the warehouse, I-70’s...

Tongue I am drawn to you like my tongue is drawn to the gap between my teeth – there’s no good reason but it fits and it feels right...

Her name was Albert II. But that wasn’t her real name; that’s what the NASA engineers called her, those doughy-faced men with pocket...

I find that, in the end, all apartments are the same. In our nondescript living room, my boyfriend Andrew and I watch a film about Nikola...

By jim bourey The Man Grave Persea Books By Christopher Salerno A few years ago, I attended a workshop run by Christopher Salerno. At one...

You're Pretty Gay by Drew Pisarra $14.00 Chaffinch Press Drew Pisarra’s collection of shorts, You’re Pretty Gay from Ireland’s Chaffinch...

trinitarian genes the DNA of spilt-personality gods I discovered mine drinking Jack & Coke chilled by a bear in...

Birthright The mechanics of this body have never made a baby. They may have once held the start of a baby, a clot expelled one morning...

You’d never held a gun before, the percussion ricocheting throughout the bones in your skull. And the sag of your smile, the dismay, as...

There is a name for the color of pollen this honeybee is packing into its thigh pouches as it works the Mexican sunflowers with exuberant...

Refresher. (For Warren Longmire) Someone called their mindfulness a “glass-bottomed suspension bridge,” so in that land I stood a ladder....

1. Connecticut hospital June, 2020 This piece is about space and speed. Within the almost unbearable confinement of the corridors, we...

Snails & Stars Snails can sleep for up to three months which I think just makes them depressed but we aren’t always good about...

The cars are metastases crawling inside the veins of the roads. And then they disappear in the flatline of the horizon. Green is the...

Spellbound Where I’m from we’re taught young the catch patterns of a man. Bake the blood of our moons into their supper. It’s his tongue...

Taken Out I was raised by those raised by a generation to spend a long time “getting ready” so someone can stand at the foot of the...

I have written about rocks before— our subconscious desire to return to our mineral state— but a recent confrontation with what appeared...

Tunnel Sounds I play music to trap my mind. I stare down a tunnel and wait. I waited and stared down the tunnel for the echo to catch...