Author: Threepenny Editor

Frederick Wiseman

I wasn’t saying anything.I was thinking how last night my wife screamed in her sleepI’m sorry I ever married you.When I shook her awake, she said, Not you,Alfred. Who the…

Dean Young

Part of me still believesit’s possible to breathefire. Miles Davis can’t be the only one.I’ve positioned myself closeto where the membrane’s thinnestnot just for the ripbut also the merrimentlike when…

Once there was a mountain herethen a glacier came and whenthe glacier melted, the ground lookedlike brains so some critics came alongto decide who was avant garde enough.Those that weren’t…

I dreamt I was somewhere elseand woke up there. Huge cableshung above me like someone else's ideasof guilt, they could get you somewherebut in another season. A dog I knewtrotted…

If only bodies weren’t so beautiful.Even rabbits are made of firecrackersso tiny they tickle your hand.If only the infirmities,blocked neural pathways, leg bracesand bandages didn’t make everyonelook like they’re dancing.Breathing…

Dread of what’s grown in the night.Dread of metamorphosis,of the branch blown down in the storm,of the ghost hand brushing my face,of antlers snagged in the starry wastes,of the whole…

This clam doesn't have the slightest ideawhat's about to hit it. Well, maybeit does but approaches life with bemusedbecalmed detachment and therefore deathis no big deal, not to be avoided…

I’ve been grinding my teeth again,my bike helmet filled with floral goo.Think of this as a dream if it helpsand I know I try to. Ghosts in eddies,accusatory driftwood, squirrels…