"Breathless as Lightning"
Two Poems /
Aphrodite
I bought cheap lingerie and
you worshiped me like a goddess,
making offerings with
outstretched hands—
you yearn for the way I smell when
I wake up covered in sweat—
you sound the way that red wine tastes, smooth and dark
and full. I drink your voice straight from the bottle. I drink it until
I am dizzy with your words.
You and I
are not temples—we are
deities.
Late Eclipses in the Sun and Moon
I was born in a thunderstorm and
vast clouds roll in my lungs, my stomach, my heart—
lightning strikes from the coils of my hair—
sparks fly from my open lips—
he says he can feel the storm brewing when he kisses me.
I was born a ticking bomb and
he should run, because I’ve been reading the omens
and I’m due to explode any day
and leave the sky all red like a scab
on the knee of the universe.
I was born a bird of prey and
he’d better invest in a hood and bells—
I may be a wild animal but
every soul can be tamed and for once,
I don’t want to be
alone. He says
he can feel the storm brewing when he kisses me,
and he says it like it’s a good thing.
Kayla Allen is an English major at Northeastern University. Her writing has previously appeared in Spectrum Literary Arts Magazine and the Teacup Trail.
TWO /
"The Onset of Orgasm"
"Frozen Waterfall"
How to Fall in Love in 11 Easy Steps (Definitely Not Based on a True Story) /
Meet a seemingly nice person through mutual friends who also recently moved to Los Angeles. Over ramen, get lost in his/her eyes and lose all track of time as you talk about food, adventures, camping, comedy, and all the other things that you mutually love. Allow them to be nice to you, passionate about their work, and enthusiastic about your interests and general personhood. Insist to your roommate the next morning that your perma-smile has nothing to do with your date, that you’ve just had a lot of coffee and whatever shut up. Narrowly avoid dropping your phone in the toilet when she/he texts to say she/he had a lovely time and can’t wait to see you again. Breathe.
Go for a long ride on the back of his/her motorcycle along the beach as the sun sets, feeling a familiar fluttering in your stomach. Tamp that feeling down as hard and fast as possible because it’s probably just from winding roads and it’s only your third date and the last time you felt like that your heart broke into a million pieces and you haven’t quite put them back together yet. Encourage yourself to be “rational.” Try to find all of his/her flaws that will justify making this a quick fling, such as their slightly younger age or their financial stability or their extreme emotional availability.
In a whirlwind of PMS, accidentally start weeping over fish and chips as you tell him/her about your childhood goldfish that died on vacation and how you buried him on the beach at low tide even though you’re not really that sad about it and haven’t thought of Joe in over a decade. Realize you’ve never told anyone this story and that you somehow feel you can tell this person anything as she/he gives you a non-judgemental side hug and a handful of napkins to dry the tears that are inexplicably leaking from your eyes. Wonder if they think you are insane or amazing. Wonder if you are insane or amazing. Wonder if the two are mutually exclusive.
Tell yourself and anyone who will listen that love isn’t real, that it’s just a bunch of hormones and chemicals in your stupid monkey brain and that anyone in a relationship is just kidding themselves if they think it means anything because really they are just afraid to be alone. Expound upon the merits of solitude and independence and convince yourself it’s anti-feminist to fall in love. Write about how all things end and there’s no point in trying because everyone just leaves each other eventually anyway. Do not acknowledge your need to unpack this in therapy or its relevance to your life or your past in any way. Re-join Tinder just because you can.
While enjoying bahn mi’s, break up with him/her for giving you Ice-T’s first album on vinyl because it is the most thoughtful, perfect present anyone has ever given you and how do they know you so well so quickly? Immediately decide they are trying to lock you down which you’re not into for 100 reasons but mostly you are just not ready for a boy/girl friend because you are new to this city and don’t want to associate your entire identity and experience of this new place with one person as you did in your previous relationship. Also suspect that maybe he/she is just fucking with your head because why wouldn’t they because you probably don’t deserve love and also who gives Valentines presents anyway? Kiss them passionately “goodbye” because you are fully, definitely unsure of this decision. As if it will help, mention that in another dimension you might have fallen in love with them but that you just want to be friends.
Agonize over whether you are setting healthy boundaries for your emotional growth and well-being or building walls because you are afraid and insecure. Watch “Frozen” for the first time while babysitting, and burst into tears upon realizing you are literally being such an Elsa right now, building ice walls between yourself and all the wonderful things the world has to offer. Explain to your three-year-old companion that she will understand someday, and encourage her to be more like Anna who is clearly the more badass sister who isn’t afraid to love and saves the day but somehow gets the shaft as far as fame and recognition go which also resonates with you. Seriously, does anyone realize there are fucking 2 princesses in this movie and the annoying, boring one is getting all the attention? Place this in the back of your mind for future rants.
Go out of town to see your family for a few days and realize you kind of maybe very much miss him/her. When you return, casually ask him/her to meet you at a comedy show, and then casually invite them to sleep over afterward as though nothing has changed in the preceding week. Act offended and confused when he/she balks at this emotional 180, and then act aloof when they agree. In bed that night, ask if they read that New York Times article about the science of falling in love, which they haven’t. Do not explain or elaborate. immediately change the subject back to a lack of decent pizza options in Los Angeles and agree to go on a pizza tour.
Invite her/him to your birthday party, making it clear that your parents will be in attendance. Actively refuse to facilitate an introduction because he/she is not your boy/girl friend and the pot cookie is kicking in so you’re extremely paranoid about the greater implications of him/her meeting your mom and dad because everything is so deeply steeped in MEANING. When he/she leaves the second most thoughtful, perfect present you’ve ever received on your front porch, decide that it might mean something but that it feels terrifyingly okay. Decide that “Storage Almost Full” is as good a reason as any to re-delete Tinder but that it doesn’t mean anything.
Confront your reluctance toward complete monogamy and your desire to flirt or make out or potentially sleep with other women/men even though you like being with this man/woman. Wonder if maybe this time things could be different. Discover the simple beauty of free, honest, open communication when discussing this idea with her/him, and when he/she is okay with the idea of an open relationship, because he/she is a progressive human who is not like your ex in the slightest, feel the desire to stray fade, just a bit, with the knowledge that the door is open. Relay this conversation to your best friend to make sure you’re not dreaming and tell her you might be in love only haha just kidding. Realize that this might actually be true.
Go camping together for the weekend in Joshua Tree, fulfilling a years-long dream you’ve had to camp with a lover in a place you’ve always wanted to visit. Briefly freak out and consider cancelling the trip because Saturday is her/his birthday and does this make you a couple now and you like being single because it’s safe and do you really want this and what does this all mean? On the advice of a friend, decide that nothing has to mean anything and to just enjoy the time for what it is, which is pleasant. Breathe. Surprise yourself with how much you enjoy being together in a concentrated period like this, and how easy it is. Around the campfire, tell him/her about your deepest darkest secret that not even your best friend knows and experience an immediate rush of freedom and relief. In the middle of the night when you get a migraine from too much hiking in the desert sun, they will bring you water, Aleve, and a granola bar and massage your temples without you even asking. When he/she falls asleep holding you in his/her arms, practice whispering “I love you” into their chest just to see if it fits. When she/he says, “what?”-- pretend to be asleep already.
Spend a few days or maybe even a few weeks thinking about if and how it would change your relationship to divulge this truth, and whether you want it to. Continue to grow closer to him/her as you ever so slowly melt your ice walls and allow yourself to be just a little vulnerable when talking about your goals, hiking up mountains, eating insane Korean food, making art projects, and drinking coffee together in comfortable silence on your porch swing. Write an essay generalizing the specific details of your months-long courtship just to be sure that you’re sure. This love feels so different than it has in the past that it’s easy to dismiss it as something else until you realize that the difference feels amazing. Recognize how self-sabotaging it is to hold yourself back from an opportunity to learn and grow and decide not to be afraid anymore. Publish your essay online and send him/her the link. Breathe.
ONE /
"Honey Tasting Fire"
Bill Wolak is a poet, photographer, and collage artist. His collages have been published in The Annual, Peculiar Mormyrid, Danse Macabre, Dirty Chai, Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal, Lost Coast Review, Yellow Chair Review, Otis Nebula, and Horror Sleaze Trash. He has just published his twelfth book of poetry entitled Love Opens the Hands with Nirala Press. Recently, he was a featured poet at The Hyderabad Literary Festival. Mr. Wolak teaches Creative Writing at William Paterson University in New Jersey.
FIVE: Photos /
Hayley Cranberry Small is a 23-year-old Brooklyn-based photographer. Hayley enjoys photographing subjects that are relevant to her interests: humans and their relationship with nature/open space, the human body, and anything with natural light. She is currently enrolled in a masters program for urban planning, studying the relationship of humans and the necessity for open space in urban areas.
Two Poems /
Heather Road in Nevada
the olive jars are the first to break. your hands
are swelling in the outlets, the dial tone surfacing,
the static rising for air. the boys move like songbirds,
a map of limbs folded into curtain rings. behind them,
you try to remember polaroids, unjustified shoeboxes.
nobody is here to blink. the last boy leaves his coat
on the attic door, a volcanic voice smothered by
tweed, throat laced with his own blonde. you nod
at this house of a body, palms folding over finches,
the light erasing the hot snap of the hook.
Nylon, 1905
teeth cleaner than glass, your old
home on 6th. someone still speaks
of toothpaste, of latex, of salt-smoked
avocado oil. let in the diner signs
because you are the only one who can:
a little more south, and anyone could have
sprouted a spine. someone is sinking
right here, and you are breathing
still, and your skin is only as weightless
as you swear it to be. and yes i know
all three of them are dead, and this
home wasn’t made for burning, and
i don’t want to think about the
mattress until i have to. think about
clay burrowing under your fingernails
until it is a house, until someone wakes up
as a sinkhole, until someone leans back
and nods: i’m not the dead one anymore.
Melissa Ho is a seventeen-year-old from Ellicott City, Maryland. Her work has been recognized by The Alliance for Young Artists & Writers, The National YoungArts Foundation, The Poetry Society of the United Kingdom, and others. She has appeared in [PANK], Word Riot, Banango Street, and elsewhere. You can reach her at melissa.ho@columbia.edu.
FOUR: Photos /
THREE: Photos /
Three Poems /
when you say we didn’t get a winter this year
you told me you had bad genes
as if the crimes and misgivings of all the
men in your family had stuffed roots
into your back and bled into your family tree
i buy 400g bags of fortune cookies
to convince you that inevitability
doesn’t stick up your wounds like
salt and sea foam
the air inside the apartment smells
stale i hold my hands over
your chest searching for true north
i look for you like i feel for a tooth
that has already fallen out
i am building you a
bed out of shriveled pines
i am gluing them together with the
sap i find in their scales
but the pockets in your lungs
are stuck up with honey
and air erodes your oesophagus
cover the holes in your skin
with glad wrap
blubber with your tight lips
spill out of yourself.
i read instructions on lucid dreaming
i pray to the gods with varicose veins
tight around my ankles
with soap sticking up my gums
and cyanide in my teeth
i ask for hands to part the sea
to split it into sand and salty tears
i ask for clarity and all i get
is stained glass and bubble wrap
there are slashes in our fly
screen i can’t sow together
the drought left our garden
skeletal and barren. the bones
we scooped from the ground
left to rot and fall away
you hold the pomegranate in
both hands slipping seeds
under your waterline
its shell is dusty and dries
up your throat like cinnamon
i am shattered windows and
paint peeling doors
there is an unkindness of ravens
i can see it in their eyes.
remember the salt in your bones
dickens said we forge chains the
simple truths and rosy wine
mama said rice paper rolls are too thin
and that blurry oceans wait for no one
you become something yellow and
sticking the edge of a page that
curls up in on itself
something i call california
smear your hot skin with wax
burn these candles until they die
count your steps until there’s no more
pavement and your boots are
hot and worn through
peel the leaves off artichokes
tongue the gaps in the curtains
this turkey stuffed overflowing
this shattered compass and
these rotting leaves
something i call nova scotia
i lock the door in hopes it may
keep you out i open my windows
when my room smells too much like
you i drink salt water and fill my
gut with peach stones and clover.
Natalie Sakarintr lives in Melbourne, Australia. She is a Creative Writing major at the University of Melbourne. She spends too much time on public transport and is good at accidentally making eye contact with strangers for longer than socially acceptable. She can be found on Tumblr and Twitter.
TWO: Photos /
Dark /
Jackie Helms was doing her periodic review of the employee groups’ health data for her employer Healthion Insurance, when one set of numbers jumped out at her. The claims rate for Dark Hill Brewers was 45% of normal for similar size employers. She immediately questioned the results, because the next best results were 80% of normal for Jackson’s Department Stores.
After rechecking, she came up with the same numbers. Next, she looked at previous results for Dark Hill and found out that the previous year Dark Hill was at 105%. She ran some tests to see if the results were credible for the sample size and found out that they were to plus or minus 5%.
Jackie was completely convinced the results were legitimate, but had no idea about how they could be explained. The approved corporate procedure was to pass the oddity along to her supervisor Jane Goodway, but Jane was known to take all the credit for any good work. To get some credit for her discovery, Jackie emailed chief underwriter Stan Henson. In turn, Stan invited her to lunch to talk about Dark Hill.
Stan said, “I just happen to know their head of personnel. Let’s go talk to him.”
Jackie said, “Don’t you mean human resources?”
“One of the things that I like about the Dark Hill execs is that they are dinosaurs like me. No ‘human resources’, ‘people of color’, ‘issues’ or ‘Baker City’ for us. We think that the language that we used twenty years ago worked just fine. Somebody dying of cancer doesn’t have ‘health issues’ for god’s sake, he has a health problem. If the town is ‘Hood River’ in Hood River County, why can’t ‘Baker City’ in Baker County still be ‘Baker’?”
Jackie tended to agree with Stan, but she kept quiet because Stan’s rants could go on for half an hour if encouraged.
Stan seemed to catch Jackie’s attitude and moved on. “The two of us will have lunch with their guy Will James next Friday and see if he has any ideas. I’ll clear it with Jane.”
They met in the Dark Hill cafeteria. Will greeted them with “What a good looking couple of white people. How are you today and who is this beauty you brought with you?” Jackie was a little surprised to see a black man in a largely white industry in largely white Bend.
“We are good Will. Jackie is one of our ace statisticians and you are definitely a good looking example of your race.”
The guys laughed a lot, but Jackie couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable. Later she understood that it was their silly guy stuff.
“Here’s the deal, Will. Jackie applied her advanced mathematics skills to find out that your health claims record is way better than average the last year, but couldn’t find any explanation. She tried similar employee groups and groups for your region. We matched demographics. In every case, Dark Hill aced everyone else by a large margin. So we are here to find out what you are doing right.”
“That is a puzzler. Personally, I’m very healthy as you no doubt know, because I clean your clock every time that we go one on one on the basketball court. Not only that, but the girls always want me to be skins. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I do think that we are trending down on sick days. Right now I can’t think of anything that’s changed in the last year that would change our claims stats, but I’ll give it a little more thought. Maybe I’ll need to let you know in person. How is the fishing around Wilsonville?”
“I’ll need to find out before you visit.”
“I might show up sooner if all of the statisticians at Healthion look like Jackie.”
“We are getting on troubling grounds, as somebody in human resources, I mean personnel should know. It could be actionable harassment if I told you that Jackie is by far our best looking statistician.”
Jackie worked at keeping a straight face.
On the way back to Wilsonville Jackie asked “How do you know Will so well?”
“We were fraternity brothers at U of O and both of us were a couple of give a shit jokers, so we naturally bonded together against the tight-asses. Plus we both liked our dads’ music – Little Richard, Everly Brothers, Ray Charles and like that and were crazy about the Trail Blazers. He’s married, so I can’t fix him you up with him, but I can set you up with one of his unmarried brothers.”
“No thanks.”
“Don’t like black guys or do you prefer girls?”
“None of your damned business, but I usually date guys and I’ve dated guys from every recognized ethnic group and some others that only I know about.”
“Sorry about my insensitivity, but I’ve got a mental disability – I’m a guy. How about broken hearts?”
“So far theirs seven and mine five, so I’m up two on the scoreboard. Right now I’m in play.”
It occurred to both of them that it had gotten a little too personal and they didn’t say anything for the next half hour and pretended to watch Smith Rocks north of Bend and then the trees on US26 east of Mt. Hood.
Stan broke the ice with “So aren’t you too bright for your position at Healthion? Not that I’m suggesting you leave.”
“Short answer, yes I am too bright for my position at Healthion. Longer answer, it requires so little of my mind that I can work on my poetry and math games in my head while I’m at work.”
Stan just gawped in response to her revelation. He hoped he didn’t look as stupid as he felt.
“My turn. Since we are getting personal, how long ago were you and Will at the U of O.”
“About mumble years ago.”
“You really just said mumble in place of a number?”
“Yeah, you would never believe the actual number because I look sooo much younger.”
Jackie snorted and some snot came out of her nose, and then they were both guffawing out of control. Rather than being grossed out, Stan was enchanted.
At that point in the trip, they felt so comfortable with each other that they started to run scenarios internally. Jackie thought he’s got to be married or gay and Stan thought there has to be some rule about dating a fellow employee.
They were both wrong.
Three weeks after the trip to Dark Hill, Will called up to ask about the fishing around Wilsonville. Stan said “No idea, but why don’t you come up here and I’ll take you to Wankers Corner which has good beer and all the free peanuts that you can eat. Is this just personal, or do you have an answer about your health claims?”
“Before I answer your question, I have one. Does wanker mean the same thing in Wilsonville that it does in Britain?”
“I’ve wondered that for years. I suspect it means something different in Wilsonville. Probably named after Franklin Wanker, or something like that.”
“OK, I’ll answer your question. I have an idea why our claims are so low, but you probably won’t believe it. Anyway, I want you to take me to dinner and hang out. You know Wilsonville isn’t that far from Bend, buddy.”
“Damn straight, we don’t see enough of each other, brother from a different mother.”
“Stan, please cut out the cheese.”
“OK, that was overboard.”
The next day Will got into Wilsonville and stored some overnight stuff at Stan’s place. Will refused to answer questions about business until they got to Wankers Corner, started on their first beer and shelled some peanuts.
“OK, spill. Now.”
“I see they don’t serve any Dark Hill Stout here. The customers are in line for a lot of health problems.”
“Huh?”
“OK, be as skeptical as you want. After racking my brain and asking around the brewery, I was reminded that we started to send a monthly case of beer home with all the employees a year and a half ago. It was cheaper than raises, and it made for happy workers, sometimes too happy. That is the only thing that changed at the time our loss ratio improved. You need to start charging us less for health coverage.”
Without commenting on cheaper health coverage, Stan said “So beer drinkers are healthier? I have a hard time believing that.”
“First, it’s not just any beer, it’s dark beer. More specifically, it is the Dark Hill Stout, the one that we send home with them.”
“Well, yeah I’m skeptical until we can do more research.”
“I’m good with that. Let’s have another round of this unhealthy beer.”
After they started their second, Will asked “Are you still hanging out with those bimbos since Joyce left?”
“Don’t start.”
“Listen, you do know that they are seeing you for your stash. Worse, they could give you the gift that keeps discharging.”
“Hey, I’m a big boy now, I know about condoms.”
“Here’s what I find troubling. You are working with a beautiful and bright woman. I’m talking about Jackie. Anything going on there? Oh, so you can still blush.”
“It must be my Irish. I have to use SPF 1000 outdoors. Look, she’s a co-worker, there are ethical considerations.”
“Just in case you don’t remember, I’m head of personnel at Dark Hill. There is probably no problem if you are not in the same chain of command.”
Stan considered that and answered. “No, we are parallel in the organization. Not that I’m considering a romance.”
“Sure you’re not.”
“I don’t know how you can use my explanation for the good health at Dark Hill, but I’m going to put our chemists on it and see if they can find out if our beer is different somehow. I see another Nobel prize in it for me.”
“Another Nobel prize?”
“I got my first one when I disconnected my door bell.”
“Arghh - more drink, less talk.”
Meanwhile Stan didn’t know that Jackie had already checked around and found out that Stan was divorced and very heterosexual, but she didn’t want to make the first move.
Just to be sure, Stan checked with his personnel department and found out that strictly hypothetically he could date Jackie. Given the possibility of a healthy relationship, he realized how miserable that he had been since Joyce left him ‘to find herself’. A part of ‘finding herself’ involved a poetry professor at Portland State. Under his tutelage, she is trying to get her self-involved poetic treasures published.
With the decks cleared, they approached each other cautiously like two porcupines. It started with lunches together at work, progressed to hikes and picnics and went to weekends at either his or her place. Without any formal announcement, they became recognized as a couple.
After some phone conversations Will and Stan realized that even though they had been best friends in college, it had been a year between their last visit and Stan’s business trip to Bend. For years after college they had been close, but they had gone their own ways for some time. Will assumed, correctly, that some of their estrangement had been caused by Stan’s turmoil with Joyce. Stan had felt so betrayed and guilty about Joyce’s racism, that he felt awkward around Will even after Joyce left him. Joyce would give unsubtle hints like “Can’t you find better friends?”
Stan insisted “It’s about 150 miles, we got to trade visits at least once a month.”
“OK, you come to my place first.”
“OK if I bring Jackie?”
“Listen, I am so happy that you have started making some good decisions, even though it is late in your life.”
“Are you still claiming that we were friends in college when you were there ten years ago, and I was there twenty years ago even though the math doesn’t work?”
“How wrong can I be when everyone believes me?”
“So how about I show up Friday evening in a couple of weeks? Maybe you’ll be able to explain your miracle elixir by then.”
“It’s a plan. Jody will barbeque and you will be expected to entertain the kids.”
At Will’s place, Jackie joyfully took over entertaining the kids; leading Stan to wonder why Jackie hadn’t already married and started a family. Before dismissing the thought as presumptuous, he thought “Better for me.”
Left to talk business and drink beer, Will led with “It’s the terroir.”
Before Will could say anything else, Stan said “That’s wine talk isn’t it?”
“I can see that you are in for an education. Dark beers are bitter because they are very ‘hoppy’ and hops depend on the climate and soil in which they are grown. Our research staff has found out that the fields around Hubbard where the hops are grown have unique properties that may not be found anywhere else. It has unusual proportions of selenium, copper and other trace elements, probably from volcanic eruptions. It also contains some organic compounds that we have not identified yet. The unique soil produces unique hops. We can’t explain the health benefits yet, but the staff swears that our hops are the reason for them. It is possible that other dark beers may also convey some health benefits.”
Stan and Will went about their business, exchanging visits over the next several months. Stan and Jackie became as much a couple as Will and Jody. Will was all smiles “We presented all the stats that we have along with the analysis of the hops and now all of those government alphabets – FDA and so on, will allow us to make legitimate health claims for Dark Hill Stout. Our analysis of competitive dark beers indicates that they have some of the healthy ingredients that we have, but not all. Of course, we won’t tell them that, they’ll have to find out for themselves. In the meantime, we will boost our production of our stout as much as possible while continuing to be a craft brewery. We have quietly bought up some land with similar makeup to our original supplier, so we can get a lot more hops.”
“Are you sure that the public will go for it?”
“I’ve been talking to newspaper and TV medical columnists. They are buying in. Believe me, this will be huge. But wait there is more – I’ve been checking our employee records and the divorce rate is way below expected. I think that our stout makes people happier as well as healthier.”
“Couldn’t it be that any beer makes people happier?”
“Stan, you know better than that. Heavy drinkers have much higher rates of depression and divorce. For whatever reason, we think that our stout drinkers quit after drinking just enough to elevate their mood, but not enough to be roaring drunk.”
Back in Wilsonville, a very nervous Stan said to Jackie, “Listen, I don’t want to spend any more of my life being single. You are the one, please marry me. I want to start a family now.”
Jackie, who had wondered if Stan would ever get around to asking, wasted no time saying yes.
Will was the best man at the wedding and Jackie’s sisters and Jody were bridesmaids. They kept it small, because Jackie had no interest in spectacles and Stan remembered the aftermath of the huge, expensive wedding to Joyce.
A month later Jackie was expecting and she and Stan were overjoyed.
Dark Hill had found a way to make a hop supplement, which didn’t taste too good, but had most of the health and happiness effects of the beer. Now teetotalers and those that didn’t want to stay buzzed continuously could reap the benefits of Dark Hill Stout.
Dark Hill was rolling in money and the employees’ profit sharing plan made them rich. Tourists flocked to Bend to visit the brewery and many stayed. The introduction of Dart Hill Stout by an industrial brewer in New Jersey, with a label which was almost the same as Dark Hill Stout was a small wrinkle, but the Dark Hill lawyers handled that quickly.
Jackie gave birth to a healthy Andy and eleven months later to an equally healthy Sandra.
Will called Stan a couple of years after the discovery of the wonders of Dark Hill Stout. “One thing that we didn’t study earlier is that the stout doubles fertility. As with all the other properties, we know what happens, but not why.”
Two years after Jackie originally noticed the superb claims ratio at Dark Hill, syndicated columnist Jason Atkins wrote a column “The ‘Dark Ages’ Are A New Golden Age” in response to the improved mental and physical health of the US caused by Dark Hill Stout and Dark Hill Pills.
After five years of peace and prosperity, the Federal Office Of Budget and Management announced that the standard of living in the United States would be cut in half in fifteen years due to the burgeoning costs of educating the increasing number of students and social security for seniors who were living ten year longer.
Doug Hawley is a little old man who lives with editor Sharon and cat Kitzhaber. Since giving up actuarial work and math, he hikes, snowshoes (when there be snow), volunteers and writes. He is a frequent contributor to Potluck.
ONE: Photos /
Hayley Cranberry Small is a 23-year-old Brooklyn-based photographer. Hayley enjoys photographing subjects that are relevant to her interests: humans and their relationship with nature/open space, the human body, and anything with natural light. She is currently enrolled in a masters program for urban planning, studying the relationship of humans and the necessity for open space in urban areas.