Tags » ~Issue 6

Bitter Fruit

BY TYRONE JAEGER

https://arkanamag.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/read-by-julee-jaeger_bitter-fruit.mp3

Morning sickness is a siren warning of natural disaster, but she tells no one. She imagines a seed, like those she spits from the oranges growing in the backyard, where her stepfather yanks his lawnmower to life. 559 more words

Fiction

Two Poems by Ellery Beck

https://arkanamag.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/aperture-and-forgery-or-how-to-make-autumn.mp3

Aperture

From solid teak, I want             to write
about our love, but we never made      it there. Or maybe,
we did. Maybe you                     felt… 229 more words

Poetry

Two Poems by Romana Iorga

Editor’s Choice Award

https://arkanamag.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/romana-iorga-poems.mp3

a woman made entirely of air

these days I worry about          percentages
              who knows how much          fear
is enough to inflict          irreversible… 254 more words

Poetry

Two Poems by Keats Conley

The God of Caddisfly Larvae

Inspired by the artwork of Hubert Duprat

If animals owe nothing to art, then what are we to make of this hollow tube: a patchwork of the shapeliest stones, planorbid shells, and slivers of fish bones like spruce needles? 170 more words

Poetry

Two Poems by Sneha Subramanian Kanta

Mahim Bridge

                                    Mumbai, 2006.

young children standing
with arms open to the world.

an endless summer tiptoes
from their aconite-like feet.

there is no partition: 185 more words

Poetry

American Bounty

BY JOHN SIBLEY WILLIAMS

https://arkanamag.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/american-bounty.mp3
John Sibley Williams is the author of As One Fire Consumes Another (Orison Poetry Prize, 2019), Skin Memory (Backwaters Prize, University of Nebraska Press, 2019), Disinheritance, and Controlled Hallucinations. 62 more words
Poetry

A Pocket of Air

Editor’s Choice Award

BY KRISTIN KOZLOWSKI

Morning. I make a pot of coffee. Out the window, the sun is stuck low in the tree. Pink hovers over the horizon, but I’m reminded that it’s cold outside when my husband marches through the front door on an Arctic blast that somehow made it all the way to Chicago. 371 more words

Issue 6