Mermaid of O'ahu
J.L. Bramble
The happiest days were when we first moved to O'ahu, before the night that I was attacked by the giant sea mollusk.
The Naming of Fruit
Excuses
Digby Beaumont
A memory comes up, of his mother when he was a young boy. Back then she loved to dance. Daniel would come home from school and find her in the kitchen, singing along and swaying to the music on the radio: Glenn Miller, Peggy Lee, Nat King Cole.
Friday Night at the Olympia Theater
Jean P. Moore
I took a breath and tried to hold my lips like a kiss, but I couldn’t really suck the chocolate milk up through the straw very well that way.
Emmitt Waves
Beau Midgett
I’m frequently asked to repeat my version of Emmitt’s departure, especially over beach bonfires. I don’t mind, a good surf tale never grows old.
My Wife’s Posse
Kyle Hemmings
When my wife and I make love, she is no longer consumed by passion. She lies stiff, as if awaiting a flogging. I imagine she wishes she was blindfolded. I imagine she wishes I was a handsome pirate who has kidnapped her and stolen her father's dowry.
Far Away From Here
Inderjeet Mani
Under the shadow of the Mammelles...you'll
find that line in Baudelaire. He lived with the Autards right here,
in that cottage over on the hill.
Curveball Summer
Douglas Campbell
I wanted to throw the ball through Norman's fucking head, and I flung it at him as hard as I could. Just for the hell of it I tried spinning it too. And for the first time I saw that sucker curve.
The Golden Child of Red Sox Nation
Kim Girard
Kate doesn’t know it yet, but she’s part of Red Sox Nation. That she was born in a rural town in China some 7,000 miles away doesn’t matter.
My Greatest Comeback:
An Erotic Baseball Memoir
John Bredin
Aside from sex, my grandparents' other great shared activity was watching baseball on TV.
Send comments to: editor (at) slowtrains (dot) com.
|
|
|
|
Rave On
July 3, 2009
Welcome to Slow Trains, where the postcards never stop.
|
Slow Trains in print & Best Online Journals, guest-edited by Pam Houston
Instructions on How to Build a Galaxy
Daniel Hudon
Listen to Rumi: Start a big, foolish project.
No new galaxies have been constructed in the past fourteen billion years,
but that's no reason for you not to build one. Once you've built a galaxy,
you can do anything.
sophistication pales
against
the rhythm
of slow trains
|
Solitary Man
John G. Rodwan, Jr.
Indeed, for the faithless, god songs like Johnny Cash’s can gain poignancy. When he says god reached down his hand or is calling, softly and tenderly, for you and me, he sincerely means it.
Monody for Matador
Stephenson Muret
I stepped out of the bus station's glass doors to witness an old man accidentally drop a small octopus in the street. He uttered a quiet oath.
Our continuing section on peace & politics during these critical times
"True peace is not merely the absence of tension: it is the presence of justice."
--
Martin Luther King, Jr.
|
|
|
Wheat
The Seven Deadly Sins of Marriage
Sherman Alexie
We are word-whores / With libidos and egos of balsa wood /
We'd have sex with our books, if only we could
Ruby Spotted Swallowtail
Nettie Farris
frequents groves and gardens / lives for citrus / lemon lime key-lime / pie and /
an occasional Margarita
Dear Love
Robert Jacoby
You are lush
like the Caribbean island jungle that June morning. Remember?
remember that summer night in agra
Stephen Roxborough
my greedy lips swimming in light years / slowly curving round your heavens /
tongue tripping across the zodiac / tasting each sign / of this perfect universe
For Adam
Lisa Cole
I heard a poem once / where the poet set two lovers on train tracks /
making love. And they could not hear / the train coming straight for them
Postcard, Second Issue
Christina Manweller
Grapes on sale this week / one ninety-nine a pound /
I bought two. Pounds, that is / What are you selling? / My grapes / they're rotting on the vine
A Matter of Preference
Howie Good
Wouldn’t you rather / we walk down / the avenues of rain / trading verses from Poe / like black roses
Orpheus and Eurydice:
2 letters
Deirdre Feehan
Red rumors rushed into my path with sharp grappling hooks:
She found gold in Alta. She pitched to Barry Bonds. She rafted the
Susquehanna, half way to China.
What's All This Stuff?
John Calvin Hughes
What do you want from me? / I was sure I locked the door / and now there you are /
back in the closet, behind / the coats, rummaging / in the pockets, worrying /
my new shoes
Books from Slow Trains writers
All material in Slow Trains is copyrighted to the original authors and may not be reproduced without permission. Violators will be prosecuted.
|
|
