A True Story of Twenty-first Century Jazz
by
Found in: Issue 1, Poetry
Published in March, 2020

I once got on the train at 125th street by the old Apollo theater that runs express to Columbus Circle (a ten-minute ride). A man walks on just as the doors are closing. Just like Harlem’s buildings, he’s dressed in about seven different decades. The social consternation of a century of accumulated history brings with it an equally rotten taste in fashion. Amidst the fuchsias and scarlets and faded yellows, I hardly noticed he was holding a mint-condition pure gold saxophone.

As the train leaves the station he begins playing a chaotic series of tones. A dilettante’s Mahler it is ‘rough’ and ‘spontaneous.’ Really, ran ricocheted hostile forces in the shuddering metal can ‘til your vital forces (brain and flesh) were reduced to a punchcard.

The man stopped playing and pronounced to his captives:

I AM AN ALIEN

“I am from outer space and YOU cannot know ME! Give me money or I will hurt your ears!”

Eleme Men
by
Their compensation is determined entirely by the speed with which they deliver. This gives them a unique, scrambling gait, as they shift between different states of panic.
Tomatoes in East Palestine
by ,
Correspondence from Rob Two-Hawks, an East Palestine resident writing to Julia Rock on the massive train derailment: "Yes, the fish, people and other things are very unhappy. Nevertheless, I'll find a way to grow some of the Finest Damn Tomatoes on Earth here."
The Dawn of Time
by
,
We all care about the dawn of time because it is fun to mention, of course, but we also like the dawn of time because it was the start of time.