Emerge by Jim Lind


Jim Lind | bio




An Interview with Brian Turner

Blood Orange Review editor H.K.
Hummel discusses war, responsibility,
and creating a new book with award-
winning poet Brian Turner
, author
of Here, Bullet and Phantom Noise
(coming in 2010) .


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Sarah Zale | bio


Fall nods to the passing of summer
without once calling it angel. Grass
pales and trembles in the low
wait of the sun as the days hide ...

For Terry  

You’re missing this

the rise of light from the bay
on this gray morning
the way a pale stone greets rain ...

Rock, Paper, Scissors  

I am rock. I am paper.

I am of the earth: steadfast, immutable.
I am of the earth: of seed, of root, of tree ... [more]


Addie Hopes | bio

Not a Love Story

This is not a love story. It’s not a break up story,
either, I promise, although there are certain
unfortunate, unavoidable resemblances: a soft-
spoken husband, a woman, her charming but
inconsiderate lover ...

Editor’s Notes

The Big Picture

I don’t remember which we accepted first for
this new issue, Addie Hopes’ prose piece “Not
a Love Story” or Sara E. Lamers’ poem “Proof:
A Love Story.” But I do remember what it felt
like: grabbing two pieces from a just opened
jigsaw puzzle and having them snap effortlessly
together ...


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Volume 4.3 | November 2009


Jackie Bartley | bio

Survival Swimming, or The Teleology of Water

Shoes, those awful sinking ships,
get yanked off first.
Then peel your pants down
over your hips, one clinging leg,
a breath, then the next
... [more]

Kimberly Burwick | bio

Like Cold Water

the mechanism is gentle
and unforgiving—
field-births and lemons
in the factory air ...

These Nails, They Point Upwards

You have come here
from the winetree,
the rowantree, the witchwood.
Cherry and apple caskets go
with a soft song to the dead ...

Cecelia Hagen | bio

Praying or Cursing

Holy mother of God, he would say, and this was cursing.
But when we said Holy Mary, Mother of God,
that was praying ... [more]

Sister Hilda Kleiman | bio

Count to Three

Maybe it was me or his own little boy
or another who was taken away.

Count to three, he said, and then we
have to let go ...


Maybe today we will live our own
lives for the first time, perhaps after

the heat rises to 105 as a woman who
cooked with a big smile, who served

yet also failed is buried by her friends ... [more]

Caroline Klocksiem | bio

Enough to make the chickens roost at noon

Nervous bird chatter then flatlining hush
over miles the day grows dark as crow ...

Sleeping by the stove

Margaret simmers her beef bone stock.
December is no calming angel,
Winter is no white repose.
Margaret moves the mattress to the stove
... [more]

Unfinished anniversary sonnet

Let the pile of bank notices rest on the table.
Let scrawny wildflowers sleep in their mason jar vase,
and let us obey their hush. Leave your tattered diary,
your observations. Let these episodical entries be ...

Sara E. Lamers | bio

Proof: A Love Story

Let x and y be real people. See them in action, let them try
to resist cliché and stay upright ... [more]

Colette Tennant | bio


Say a quiet word to the cat
when you wake in the dark house
before the lights get loud ...


A bird in the house was one.
When a robin flew in our open door
and almost beat itself to death
under the skillet cupboard,
we caught it in a dishtowel ...

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