Size / / /

An accelerating force brought you

to the bar. Some push

or pull that made you change

velocity. Made you break away,

see the light that comes

from the inside.

Long bar table shining

like heaven. Sit down. Let me

tell you my theory of everything—

beer first, then physics.

One abstraction after another.

Then your hand, my knee.

There is nothing more concrete.

A force has both magnitude

and direction, what made you turn

to me?




Marci Rae Johnson teaches at Valparaiso University and is the Poetry Editor for WordFarm press. Her poems appeared in The Valparaiso Poetry Review, The Louisville Review, and 32 Poems, among others. Her first collection of poetry will be published by Sage Hill Press later this year.
Current Issue
4 Nov 2024

“Did you know,” the witch says, “that a witch has no heart of her own?”
Outsiders, Off-worlders {how quickly one carves out a corner of the cosmos, / claims a singular celestial body as [o u r s] in the scope of infinity}
Lunar enby folks across here
Wednesday: The 2024 Ignyte Award for Best Novel Shortlist, Part Two 
Friday: A Place Between Waking and Forgetting by Eugen Bacon 
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 30 Sep 2024
Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
Issue 16 Sep 2024
Issue 9 Sep 2024
Issue 2 Sep 2024
Issue 26 Aug 2024
Load More