I think everyone’s glad I’m dead, said the stripper / with the caved-in face. Her fingers were bone with no / sinew. She flapped her arms at the two wrens / caught up in the rafters and staring down / on the empty dance hall at the Möbius Strip Club / of Grief. . . .
Read MoreIN Fall 2016
Discussing her creative process in a recent interview with Brandon Lussier for the California Journal of Poetics, poet and artist Bianca Stone posits: “There’s a power in not asking what something means, the irony being that the question becomes relevant only once you stop asking it. And also perhaps, in some ways, answered.” Stone’s stance on […]
Read MoreIN Spring 2015