July 2018 | The Piltdown Review

July 2018

Semilunar

Semilunar

In the autumn, we fling open the windows and commune with the stars from your bedside.
The Everything-Goes Garage Sale of My Love

The Everything-Goes Garage Sale of My Love

Someone left the guitar out in the rain, and I don’t think I can take it.
Bird Brain

Bird Brain

When I was a boy I swallowed a bird. Its black and yellow feathers poked out from my lips like a toy.
Bishop Trees

Bishop Trees

She wants to ask the trees some questions, a solemn synod grown anciently deaf.
Poultry Shears

Poultry Shears

Metal handles, large, the scissor for a thigh or a wing, when feathers flew up, sank like wishes, settled on the dirty floors.
The Last Stroke

The Last Stroke

They say no work of art is ever finished, only abandoned. But that’s not always the whole truth.
Gentleness

Gentleness

Before the dawn starts stirring far away, unravelling young clouds and lilac-gold, I will sit with you awhile.
Bric-a-Brac

Bric-a-Brac

Outside, the barber pole, a swirl of symbolic spirals, and walk upstairs, touching, as you go, the espagnolette.
Genrealities: Five Honest-to-Goodness True Stories of Everyday Humiliations

Genrealities: Five Honest-to-Goodness True Stories of Everyday Humiliations

The literary world loves it some genre trappings. But listen up, kids. Things were not always thus.
Like Writing a Bicycle

Like Writing a Bicycle

Writing is a lot like riding a bicycle. Not because it’s so easy to get back up on.

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