On:

The Light Tower There is an immense light on immense legs. It is as if the bulb of a lighthouse were rolled onto the legs of a water tower. As men lose their hair and graduate high school, they ascend the ladder up the tower. They got a woman pregnant,Continue Reading

On:

Our town’s favorite men were the men in blue jumpsuits who walked into the forest then down into the collider. The collider was a good way’s underground. It went under the forest, then under our town. We prayed for life to our collider, on our knees beside our beds. OurContinue Reading

On:

It’s let’s-see time.Let’s see what’s in the dharmictelescope.Let’s see out therethat something in the Universeis about to happento someone in the galactic somewhere.I could be the one present,cosmically inclined,when it tumbles like magic.Or you might be the oneto mystically greet this astral happeningsomeplace in between monkey brainand Buddha mind.It’s goingContinue Reading

On:

New stars flicker in the late spring hedgesas hawthorns glimmer bright white againstgrey skies still sullen with winter as theirstamens blink in the chilly east wind thatgusts and makes the fresh leaves shiveras bluebells drift the banks, a ceruleanpromise of cloudless summer heavens. Kate Meyer-Currey was born in 1969 andContinue Reading

On:

[The phone rings] Austen residence. This is Andrews. Is Miss Austen in? Oh, Mr. Andrews. Yes, she’s here. May I talk to her, Cassandra? Why? Is it important? By the way, I am ‘Miss Austen.’ I would prefer it if you don’t call me ‘Cassandra.’ My sister is also ‘MissContinue Reading

On:

Dear 21st Century, We speak to you here in terms familiar to you, in patterns amenable to your native sense, but we would like to emphasize that these terms and patterns are yours, and not ours, though we translate our own notions into yours. Naturally, much is lost in translation.Continue Reading

On:

Out there, Where the moon rocks splash, In a sea of stars, A daring dreamer, Rails against, The cold steel walls, Of an atmosphere. Stowed away, Forging a vessel, Through quiet intention, And craftsmanship, To channel the liquid night, And take refuge in the sky. Eyes forever onward. Inhabiting, ImprovisedContinue Reading

On:

E.T. Starmann is a pulp fanatic. Although he may not be a professional bookseller or librarian, he is a long-time Weird Tales, Amazing Stories, AllStory collector. A Portland native, E.T. has spent countless hours in the Gold Room nook at Powell’s, pouring through the latest pulp rack covers. E.T.’s workContinue Reading