Welcome to our issue five. Carnaval just ended yesterday. The costumes had such radiance they bore the dancers down the streets like skipping rocks. Then the fabrics fell in crumples on the beach, and the people woke this morning nude with sand stuck to their ribs. Now is time to gather up what feathered plumes they can.
This issue is poetry-dominant, with six moving Autumn leaves. Michael Julian Arnett imbibes to trace the destination of the soul. Bob Browning understands the cost of care on the carer. Cate Doherty, on the insight of the untouchable. Logan Ellis will not stay ignorant of what lies ahead. Fran Lock says our place in nature is not what it seems. And Zachary L. Pearse, on when friendship seeks the underworld.
Jody Cooksley brings elegance to a birth and an impending death, both of which went wrong. Peter Landau looks for peace among the kids he never had.
Designer Nayrb Wasylycia illustrates how humankind turns its mechanics inward.
The Brasilia Review still hears the echo of last night’s samba drums.
Wolfboy and Cold by Jody Cooksley
“…took him from his father at the age of four after winning him in a game of backgammon.”
All My Dead Children by Peter Landau
“Liz was my first girlfriend and my first abortion.”
Old Wineskin by Michael Julian Arnett
“a thousand misshapen reflections / forever walking into a veiled distance”
To the Young ER Nurse by Bob Browning
“I think of all she has seen”
Scaffolds by Cate Doherty
“rubber soles / insulating against the vibrant agitation of a sharp shovel”
Inheritance of Tumors by Logan Ellis
“it feels so urgent to know / why our mom captures the doctor’s notices with a photo album”
Roots by Fran Lock
“Here / we are, picking the proverbs from between our teeth”
David Pritchard Becoming the Sun by Zachary L. Pearse
“instead I’m hoping to Tom Sawyer the whole protest / come on over it’ll be fun etc.”