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
17 Jan 2022

The land burns so hot and high tonight that Let can see its orange glow even from the heart of The City of Birds. It burns so thick she can taste the whole year’s growth of leaves and branches on her lips. It burns so fast she can almost hear the deer and cottontails scream as flames outrun them and devour them whole.
I writhe in bed with fever, chills, chatters and shivers. The near becomes far as the far comes close.
No one gets married before going to space.
Issue 10 Jan 2022
Issue 3 Jan 2022
Strange Horizons
By: Antonio Funches
By: Lev Mirov
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 20 Dec 2021
By: Merie Kirby
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 13 Dec 2021
By: Freydís Moon
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 6 Dec 2021
By: C. S. E. Cooney
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: C. S. E. Cooney
Issue 29 Nov 2021
Issue 22 Nov 2021
Issue 15 Nov 2021
By: Madeline Grigg
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 8 Nov 2021
By: Allison Parrish
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 1 Nov 2021
By: Liam Corley
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Liam Corley
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