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I only know one or two constellations from my night sky
maybe more, but I can’t hardly see any of the stars anymore.
Perhaps a new urban system of star navigation is needed
one that makes allowances for missing stars, disconnected constellations
perhaps made up of just one or two directional points
the most important ones that are always there.

Perhaps each city will need its own chart, dependent on the level
of light pollution and air pollution blocking out swaths of space
or two or three charts to a region depending on what to expect of the season
and how much cloud cover to expect.

Most of our constellations were written for sea travel anyway
and not necessarily for new lovers to try to pick out
from the front seat of a car, parked high in the hills
like we are, squinting through the smog we can’t seem to climb past
no matter how many times you restart the engine
to drive us to a higher point.



Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Big Muddy, The Cape Rock, New Ohio Review, and Gargoyle, and her published books include Walking Twin Cities, Music Theory for Dummies, Ugly Girl, and The Yellow Dot of a Daisy. She has been a featured presenter at Write On, Door County (WI), North Coast Redwoods Writers’ Conference (CA), and the Spirit Lake Poetry Series (MN). Her newest poetry collections are A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press) and I’m in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.).
Current Issue
28 Apr 2025

By: Sofia Rhei
Translated by: Marian Womack
When the flint salamander stopped talking, its lava eyes dimmed and it sank back into the sand. Some of the scales on its upper body still poked out, here and there, as though they were part of no living creature, but simply stones scattered across the surface. 
Cuando la salamandra de sílex terminó de hablar, sus ojos de lava se apagaron y volvió a hundirse en la arena. Algunas de las escamas de su parte superior asomaban aún, aquí y allá, como si no formaran parte de un mismo cuerpo vivo, como si no fueran más que unas cuantas piedras dispuestas al azar.
By: Bella Han
Translated by: Bella Han
I am waiting for Helen on her fiftieth birthday. On the table, there’s a crystal drinking glass and a vase with rare orchids; I can’t tell if the flowers are genuine or not. Faint piano notes and a cold scent drift in the air.
我在等待海伦,为她庆祝五十岁生日。面前是一杯水,一瓶花。杯子是水晶杯,花是垂着头的兰花,不知道是真是假。
When the branches veer towards the ground you can/ climb the trees—up and up, just as you’d ditch/ ladder rungs you’re standing on.
Wenn die Zweige zum Boden geneigt sind kannst du/ auf den Baum klettern immer weiter so wie man/ die Leiter wegwirft auf der man steht
Issue 21 Apr 2025
By: Premee Mohamed
Podcast read by: Kat Kourbeti
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Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
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Issue 10 Mar 2025
By: Holli Mintzer
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