Brian Johnson

Brian Johnson

I dreamt kindness to animals was widespread, / Their demand on our powers greater and still greater. // If a rope broke, we released the herd. / If a drop of rain fell, we unveiled a flock of birds.

James Appleby

James Appleby

I know my neighbours by their walk. / Our walls are thin. A sort of string / between two cans, our stack of floors. / I hold it to my ear. It sings.

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

You can’t say he failed to choose a path in life, failed to make the sacrifice of choosing because there was nothing for him to choose at that time.

Golda Grais

Golda Grais

I took my nails into my thighs and smiled. I looked at your hands on the steering / wheel, drumming. I willed them to swerve us all into a tragedy tasting of concrete. / I suddenly saw myself in another ten years, still sitting there, humming.

Alexander Booth

Alexander Booth

no one cared, not then, not now, still what got lost & when, on the snowy side of a street, cold buildings cold book in hand inscribed in colored pencil no myth but those imagined & those at best misunderstood

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The Spring Issue | 2025

Brian Johnson

I dreamt kindness to animals was widespread, / Their demand on our powers greater and still greater. // If a rope broke, we released the herd. / If a drop of rain fell, we unveiled a flock of birds.

James Appleby

I know my neighbours by their walk. / Our walls are thin. A sort of string / between two cans, our stack of floors. / I hold it to my ear. It sings.

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

You can’t say he failed to choose a path in life, failed to make the sacrifice of choosing because there was nothing for him to choose at that time.

Brian Johnson

I dreamt kindness to animals was widespread, / Their demand on our powers greater and still greater. // If a rope broke, we released the

James Appleby

I know my neighbours by their walk. / Our walls are thin. A sort of string / between two cans, our stack of floors. /

Karen Greenbaum-Maya

You can’t say he failed to choose a path in life, failed to make the sacrifice of choosing because there was nothing for him to

John Oliver Hodges

He is not our first dead tourist. We have had copter incidents, people cutting legs on ice, avalanche victims. One lady fell down a mine

Ivy Grimes

How many times did I tell the children? We got this by a stroke of luck, and to luck it might return. Don’t fold it

Michael Harper

Mom ruined her $350 wedding dress running barefoot through a cornfield. The hem gathered silky topsoil like the wind.

Michael Hardin

I have never had a particularly good imagination. Really, it’s kind of dire. It irritates my wife that I can’t imagine a future. I’m not

Paul Hostovsky: Pitching for the Apostates | Book Review

Hostovsky’s fondness for words and keen ear for spoken language benefit his writing: he can record and create dialogue in a brilliant and natural way. In this respect, he has more in common with short-story writers than with most contemporary poets, who tend to avoid direct speech.

Interview with Artist Scott Kiernan

B O D Y interviews Scott Kiernan, a New York-based artist whose video, photo and installation works interact in ways that address their own materiality and means of distribution.

Interview with Artist Anna Hawkins

Anna Hawkins is an artist who works primarily in moving image and installation with an interest in the ways that images, gestures and language are circulated and transformed online and the impacts of technology on the intimate spheres of daily life.

Interview with Artist Johanna Strobel

Weaving together disparate references spanning across histories and geographies, German interdisciplinary artist Johanna Strobel explores the entanglement between philosophy, semiotics, and actuality.

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