Size / / /

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The word for our current collective is covey,
I think; we, even as two, are a grouping
of people, huddled in brambles of being before us—

Who? You may ask. Our call: Who-We, like
owls sounding like they are quite enjoying themselves.
Who-we: a you, a me, a you in past hopes,

a me in memory, a you of distance new when you
mention events I was not there for, now privy
to, the you of certain pasts, the me of now in your pasts.

That last I interact with like the boorish friend of a friend
at a party in my own house. The “plus one” of pasts.
We, plus me in the past. I search out collective nouns

for birds. We thought we might choose an altricial species.
Realigning, accepting avian instinct into our minds, lives,
is the why for scrimping on clothes and celebrations.

We collect enough for the elective surgery. Altricial, I think,
woodpeckers, herons, or owls, even. Whooo-whoo.
Our lives, but with the precision of birds.

We checked boxes for allopreening, allofeeding.
The online tests suggest Quaker Parrots. Collectively,
they are a prattle, a company, or a pandemonium.

There is no negotiation in a flock rising, no truisms, no advice,
such as never leave anger

between you, while you sleep. The company
literature offers no guarantee of shared purpose,
the technician joked something like that is
“the province of MMORPGs,” but this first morning, we are

cuddled in covers effortlessly and wake
in the same instance and rise into the morning
as one, and move into the kitchen for coffee,
ease into seats, and the coffeemaker’s timer’s work,
and we drink. There is a sound for this, that accompanies,
that means this, does not explain, means, and we will call it,
a catch in my throat, a knot, a gasp, wait, while I clear it, but you
do not wait or call and the coffee waits, and I will not speak,
words will be for work, for others. We will call, we will call, I gasp,
stretch my neck out

didyoudream didyoudream didyoudreamofme
didyoudream didyoudream didyoudreamofme



RMac Jones coedited the anthology Found Anew: Poetry and Prose Inspired by the South Caroliniana Library Digital Collections. His poems have appeared in NonBinary ReviewStar*LineUnlost JournalEye to the Telescope, and elsewhere.
Current Issue
27 Jun 2022

A crack in my leg opened my world, shattered it like thunder announces the arrival of lightning
it's only natural that // If I'm going, I want to be gone with you.
Kalpavigyan, or Bengali SFF: An Interview with Dip Ghosh 
Strange Horizons
[In this interview, Strange Horizons co-ordinating editor Gautam Bhatia speaks to Dip Ghosh, the editor of Kalpabiswa, the first online magazine of Bengali SFF. This interview was conducted through a collaborative Google Document, in June 2022.] Gautam Bhatia: Hi Dip, and thanks so much for agreeing to do this interview with Strange Horizons. I want to start by asking you something basic: the name of the Bengali SF magazine you edit is Kalpabiswa. Bengali SF itself is known as kalpavigyan. Can you take us through the etymology of these terms, and how we should understand them in translation?  Dip Ghosh:
There are plenty of reasons to love epistolary storytelling. Personally, I love the way various epistolary formats can shape a story in interesting and innovative ways, and I also love how the choice of format can hone the voice of a story.
Friday: How to Get to Apocalypse and Other Disasters by Erica L. Satifka 
Issue 20 Jun 2022
Issue 13 Jun 2022
Issue 9 Jun 2022
Drowning in This Sunken City 
Thursday: Everything Everywhere All At Once 
,
Issue 6 Jun 2022
Podcast: 6 June Poetry 
Issue 30 May 2022
Issue 23 May 2022
Issue 16 May 2022
Issue 9 May 2022
Podcast: 9 May Poetry 
Issue 2 May 2022
By: Eric Wang
By: Sara S. Messenger
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Sara S. Messenger
Issue 18 Apr 2022
By: Blaize Kelly Strothers
By: Ken Haponek
Podcast read by: Blaize Kelly Strothers
Podcast read by: Ken Haponek
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
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