Untitled, by Jayaprakash Satyamurthy
Stand here and become a treeSift the loam with your toesTalk to the birds in your branching mindStand here and leave eternityDrab concern of mayfly humansHold the skies in your …
issue-04
Sometimes You Get the Bear, by Tim Pratt
I met the bear hunter the night my mother died. I was a hospice care worker myself, though not in the facility where my mother spent her last months—I couldn’t…
Ask a Necromancer, by Amanda Downum
The Indignities of Death We begin life confronted with all manner of indignities and inconveniences: diapers, pants, shoes, etc. The list just gets longer and longer as we age. I…
Ghost Towns: A Cultural Resources Survey Report from the 2020-21 Field Season, by Sara E. Palmer
In the first spring I hide from the plague in a pale rain above Schet-cheet-qua-chub,fading into the timber at the end of the world.I owed that hill something, even before…
Danse Macabre: Equality in Death in Medieval Istrian Frescoes, by Jelena Dunato
The Danse Macabre—the Dance of Death—is an iconographic theme that first appears in fifteenth-century European art. It shows skeletons or cadavers leading a procession of the living from all…
This Candid Field, by Mat Joiner
In this time of masks I can touch only land,open the green book where warm feet wrotelines of desire. I need stranger maps now.I will comb the ghost-tilth with my…
Immolatus, by Lyndsie Manusos
We learned as each of us came into being that all castles have hearts. This castle has three. We still have our hearts, but our bodies were taken.
All the Trees That Have Perished Alongside My Childhood, by Bogi Takács
“I tend to refer to most of it as the territory of Ghost Soil. It certainly isn’t a narrow genre. Whatever you call it, it should dance away from easy…
The Shadowed Undertows, by Natalia Theodoridou
The scarred man sits on the water fountain ledge with his back turned to me. His hair, long and straight, spills down his back. His hand grips the side of…