There was an old woman had three sons

by Jessy Randall



There was an old woman had three sons, and doesn’t it seem like we’ve already heard this story? But instead of being sold at a country fair, these three died in a poem for children.


jessyturquoisesmallJessy Randall‘s most recent collection of poems is Injecting Dreams into Cows (Red Hen, 2012). She is the Curator of Special Collections at Colorado College, and her website is http://personalwebs.coloradocollege.edu/~jrandall/.



There was an old woman had three cows

by Jessy Randall



There was an old woman had three cows, and they all had names, and she sold them. Imagine what it would be like to sell something with a name. Something you yourself had named.


jessyturquoisesmallJessy Randall‘s most recent collection of poems is Injecting Dreams into Cows (Red Hen, 2012). She is the Curator of Special Collections at Colorado College, and her website is http://personalwebs.coloradocollege.edu/~jrandall/.



Old Mother Twitchett has but one eye

by Jessy Randall



Old Mother Twitchett has but one eye because she is a needle, and needles must be women, they poke you, and hurt you, and take care of your clothes, and it’s difficult to find them in crowds, they blend in, invisible, their paths through the woods are nearly grown over.


jessyturquoisesmallJessy Randall‘s most recent collection of poems is Injecting Dreams into Cows (Red Hen, 2012). She is the Curator of Special Collections at Colorado College, and her website is http://personalwebs.coloradocollege.edu/~jrandall/.



from Mental Hospital: A Memoir (2)

by Ross Robbins


“That was close,” I say, but everything is. The outer limits of my personal universe, restricted, incur crazy. One-hundred hard-floored yards, A-Wing’s close and closing in. If I hold really still, I might not move at all. Still, I will be smooshed in a panic with my mouth pressed to the window like a loach.





1009793_617453684946279_1525299762_nRoss Robbins lives and writes in Portland, Oregon. His debut, Mental Hospital: A Memoir is forthcoming from YesYes Books in 2015.







from Mental Hospital: A Memoir

by Ross Robbins


Behind headphones I am no one. On A-Wing I have my own room. I masturbate joylessly. I cannot cum because Prozac. I could snap like an apple or a cockroach. There are gaps like slats of a crate in me. That is where the doubt gets in. I am where the why and the dammit. I picture every needle I ever used uncapped and poured over me. “Why?” I scream but I know full well why.





1009793_617453684946279_1525299762_nRoss Robbins lives and writes in Portland, Oregon. His debut, Mental Hospital: A Memoir is forthcoming from YesYes Books in 2015.