Mudlark No. 47 (2012)

If Book in Sun and All Then Some

We are the cobs shucked sweetly of all story. Field husks lost to the wash.
Lumbering away on a wedge of dead red clays, crimped in a rictus of light.
We will outwait us, the congenitally aft, and the never of all of this is ours.

Jeffrey Little | Wheeling into Crisco
Contents | Mudlark No. 47 (2012)