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A Public Space

No. 30

The past will reveal to us the nature of the present. —Joan Perucho

Table of Contents



Marcelyn McNeil

Marcelyn McNeil



Time Keeping

Time was an instant, a moment.

Matt Miller



Mysteries of Yesteryear

It actually wasn’t that hard to invoke spirits around a table. They were everywhere.

Joan Perucho



Brindis at Covadonga

His brother was both more native and worldly, one whose life was as mysterious to him as it was obvious.

Dagoberto Gilb




I don’t blame you in a way. In a way? In all ways, in all ways I don’t blame you.

Sara Majka



Night Sky with Blue Silo and a Bonfire

We leaned into the weedfire / with all the wavering love we could endure receiving / from each other.

Idra Novey



Two Poems

It is not / only land that seems to lean up / toward me, but last night’s thick rains / soaked below it and, outside this city, / the clay beneath fields.

Joanna Klink




That sure as fangs a threat-pestered sheeny cottonmouth gon’ gape.

Atsuro Riley



The Empty Grave of Zsa Zsa Gabor

I remember her / so long ago / appearing on certain / Friday nights / as I religiously wasted / my youth watching / others embark / the boat of love

Matthew Zapruder



Team Player

No one wants to be beholden to the past.

Sana Krasikov



Matt Magee

Matt Magee




I had come here for a reason, though I no longer remembered what this reason was.

Joshua Furst



Six Months

Mona looked left, out of the little window, to find the sun shining and plump rain falling in a manner that seemed cinematic and hopeful.

Maria Thomas



Two Poems

The curtain stays closed / until someone falls in love.

Victoria Chang



Hieronymus Bosch Beach Blanket Bingo,  Summer 2020

The beach is a game board of umbrella & umbrella, torso & orifice, a vortex / of engorgement & vomit & vice versa & back.

Sylvia Legris



On Sunday I Water the Plants

a week is measured in days and there are seven / just like the fingers on my hands without those ones I / forget, chopped off, bitten off, fell off from scurvy and flesh- / eating: intentionally brutal.

Rebecca Wolff



Quail in the Bible

Everything on the table, the bed
and poem the poet found and put him in

Brian Blanchfield



The White House

Few ever really got to live there. / It was smaller than anyone ever expected. / Its lights were dimmed, though guards remained

Gillian Conoley



Necessary Obstacles

Ron Nagle



Pocket Money

Man Suk was a difficult person to be friends with. You couldn’t ask him for anything.

Mi Jin Kim




Harvesting the souls of men was full-time work—one could not serve God and mammon, didn’t she know?

Uche Okonkwo



The Secular and the Sacred

She is not frivolous, except to those who see life as a problem.

Corita Kent



Columbo and Sugar Okawa

I’ll bet Napoleon never tasted anything this good. Not even on his wedding day.

Kiik Araki-Kawaguchi


Stories Out of School

The Metaphor Game

He winks and snaps off a shot with his index finger, peering into my eyes with a weird pity.

John Francis Istel



Mapping Why We Write

There are poems that allow us to be what we are, or what we want to be, without shame.

Miguel Coronado



The Language Map

What is a country

Angela María Spring



Two Poems

The rice fields shine like rows of tinsel / the sun a neighborhood beggar in a lazy nap.

Huan He



Childhood Biracial

I memorize her face for our resemblance: an arched brow, a dark ring around the pupil.

Yasmine Ameli



Bury My Tongue

I’m remnants. Remains of a teen, troubled, remains of a child, sling necked but alive.

Ann-Marie Blanchard



Yugoslavia: The Encyclopedia of the Dead

I confuse love with nostalgia.

Maja Lukic



Nina and the Lime

There are five petals to a cherry blossom, Nina chanted to herself. There is a kindness to cerulean.

Rosemarie Ho




I’m not actively trying to disappear.

Katie Foster



Smoking Cigarettes in West Texas

I didn't like what he had to say, but I loved to hear him speak.

Crawford Hunt

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