September 2018 | The Piltdown Review

September 2018

River Salt

River Salt

The river running through my mouth bypassed my heart, the tongue dried up.
The Cartographer of Dreamland

The Cartographer of Dreamland

Even in a bleak Brooklyn childhood, adventure and salvation lie just a vacant lot away.
Bird Men

Bird Men

He sits under the nightingale tree waiting to catch those notes which are heavy enough to fall.
Fourcast

Fourcast

If the weather looks bad, you should never use four-letter words.
Visions

Visions

White peacock with tail of cloud and flame sweeps before us through blue wilderness.
Whistlelo

Whistlelo

Freedom?! I live in a lawyer’s clamped attic with Minnie and Cudjoe who ain’t free.
The Hijacking

The Hijacking

In 1961, under the régime of António Salazar, how much meaning do the actions of one young revolutionary have?
A Lopsided G-d

A Lopsided G-d

Another text, he wrote; tossed it off his tongue addressing “Negroes of the State of New York.”
Lloyd’s Neck/Slink

Lloyd’s Neck/Slink

Scrupulous, astute: to the City he was sent (by) and sometimes went (with) Master Henry to shoehorn deals.
Dark Eyes

Dark Eyes

We all want to be seen and understood for who we really are. Until, of course, that wish comes true.
Talking to the Bones: Talking

Talking to the Bones: Talking

What of what’s happened here? There should be space for spaces sacred enough not to desecrate.

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  • Smoke
    a poem by William Shunn
  • Space Coast
    a story by Carolyn Oliver
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    a story by Richard Bader
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    a story by Heron Greenesmith
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    a poem by Jose Oseguera
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