Stones by Michel Wing
“Stones” by Michel Wing Virginia walks into the river with stones in her pockets. Smooth stones, river stones, small enough for hands. I drive to the ocean with nothing in my pockets. No name, no wallet, no place to put my hands. She knows the river, she knows why she is there. I am somewhere near the Pacific, a cliff, a highway. Why am I here? Fatigue, that’s all it is. Enough. She writes, I can’t...
Stealin’ from the Dead by K. Bruce Florence
“Stealin’ from the Dead” by K. Bruce Florence Mommy moved in with us about a week ago. Seems the coal company boys is about tired Of the widow women filling up all the houses Along the dusty row moving on up the holler. I had to take her to the doctor today, but When we got back that thievin’ Bobby Ray had Filled his truck with Orville’s tackle box and fly rods. Orville thought the world of his precious gear....
Ace of Pentacles by Roxanna Bennett
“Ace of Pentacles” by Roxanna Bennett What is before you: Party dresses twisting on thin wire hangers. Japanese river stones painted with runes. Pill bottle shaking with baby teeth and a polished brown squirrel skull my brother found in a potter’s field. Lapis lazuli pendant. Curl of grey hair folded in a comic strip. What is behind you: 999 Carlaw Street. $825/month. One and a half bedrooms and a bathroom in...
Lines by Yania Padilla Sierra
“Lines” by Yania Padilla Sierra I cannot see See beyond the fluffy lines of euphoric dismay See past the smoky whiskey Warm in its dismissal of everything. I lick my fingers savoring the bitterness. My work. My work is done. My veins, tired from pumping diesel, From accepting poison, tremble Blue with age. My heart an old horse drawn cart Huffing slowly over A pock marked road. Another line, another vision-...
This Poem Will Refuse to Confess by Emily Regier
“This Poem Will Refuse to Confess” by Emily Regier That I have been drinking far too much wine for years probably. What are the guidelines? Never mind. They keep changing and I keep staying the same. So I have been thinking, if this lawyer thing doesn’t work out I am going to buy a vineyard, with rows and rows of sensational vines— Ripe black fruit, intensely structured, strong on the nose. That full...
Does the sea remember everything? I wonder.
Does she absorb everything? Does she keep it safe?
Virginia Woolf
. . .
The Q: Can you fathom the spectacle that would be created if we moved together, arms outstretched, close enough to touch?
The Q: What echoes through you that longs to take form—a poem, an image, a mark, a whisper of becoming?
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fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
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