by Alex Starr
Time has not even started to take the sky through gradient from absence to navy blue to cobalt already slapped together cars puttering along or behind motorcycles with women sitting both legs on one side as in effigy or remembrance of more than one past century of echelons leaving puffs of smog in their wake women in pressed dresses stooping down to barely defined sidewalks sweeping dust in any direction so long as it is somewhere else dust scraps the earliest memories of the preceding day the first side of histories
by GJ Gillespie
Alex Starr is a writer in California. Alex’s poems appear in Vallum, Atlas & Alice, Black Sunflowers, Snapdragon Journal, Drunk Monkeys, The Literary Bohemian, Lunch Ticket, and elsewhere. Prior recognitions include the Dorothy Sugarman Prize (Poetry), George Harmon Coxe Award (Fiction), and Barnes Shakespeare Essay Prize from Cornell University.
GJ Gillespie is a collage artist living in a 1928 Tudor Revival farmhouse overlooking Oak Harbor on Whidbey Island (north of Seattle). In addition to natural beauty, he is inspired by art history — especially mid century abstract expressionism. The “Northwest Mystics” who produced haunting images from this region 60 years ago are favorites. Winner of 19 awards, his art has appeared in 56 shows and numerous publications. When he is not making art, he runs his sketchbook company Leda Art Supply.