Back to Issue 14

                              The years are alchemists: 
               one evening glows quick gold. 
A river mimics heaven
                             slow clouds have discomposed. 

                             The sea’s been drunk forever. 
               Far mountains are but shadows. 
Each mind has its own weather; 
                             self plays with fire scattered—

                             time sports as if a fountain, 
               a tireless ascendance
fed out to drowning light. 
                             Each day is short, is endless. 

By Will Cordeiro

Will Cordeiro has work published in AGNI, Bennington Review, Copper Nickel, The Threepenny Review, THRUSH, and elsewhere. Will won the 2019 Able Muse Book Award for Trap Street and is co-author of Experimental Writing: A Writers’ Guide and Anthology, forthcoming from Bloomsbury. Will co-edits Eggtooth Editions and teaches at Northern Arizona University.