HIS FATHER’S FATHER by Joshua D. Graber
After Lydia Davis 1. Every time his father spoke, he had questions. Primarily, which parts of the stories were true and which were false? A narrative based on a true story is a wonderful promise for people who believe in Jesus or Tom Hanks, but he was less interested in this muddled middle ground. He wanted verifiable truth or delicious lies, and to know the difference. There is infinite combinatorial explosion when multiple people tell a story and infinite doubt when only one person does. Like, for instance, the story of his father’s father walking into a bar where
DAVID SIMMONS RECOMMENDS: THREE BOOKS
The Winnowing Draw by Michael Tichy (Castaigne Publishing, 2024) “Keeping a fire alive is an act of vigilance. The darkness merely awaits.” The Winnowing Draw is like Bone Tomahawk meets The Neverending Story, with beautiful language that really immerses you in the time period. We are in 1880 where a poor teenager named Cecil is on the run after accidentally (or not so accidentally?) murdering his best friend, another boy, but from a privileged and prestigious background. Meanwhile, a colonel, his kidnapped two-spirit guide, and his band of ragtag soldiers are on a hunt for American monsters. The wild
NOTHING CAN BE DONE by Pham Thu Trang
The singing starts before dawn. Four or five in the morning, when the alley is still dark and narrow and holding its breath. The houses face each other across a strip of concrete barely wide enough for two motorbikes to pass without touching. Sound has nowhere to go here. It hits walls and comes back. She throws her doors open and sings. She is about twenty, maybe. I know she has a neurological condition—people say it quietly, with the tone that means explanation and permission at the same time. We have spoken before, in small ways—offering snacks, simple questions, asking
ELEPHANT EYES by Kristopher Monroe
When I was in fourth grade my mother disappeared and I never saw her again. At first my father wasn’t sure what to tell me but he realized that the truth was better than obfuscation so he told me she was admitted to a sanitarium which I didn’t understand so then he explained she was simply sick and resting which I definitely did understand. For as long as I could remember my mother was sick in a certain way. She’d be doing dishes or loading laundry or scrubbing the tub and suddenly become overwhelmed with sadness and break down weeping
by Mike Topp
$25 | Perfect bound | 72 pages
Paperback | Die-cut matte cover | 7×7″
Mike Topp’s poems defy categorization. That’s why they are beloved by seamstresses, pathologists, blackmailers and art collectors.
–Sparrow
