We believe in crossties, tracks that take
us past elegy to where we want to go.
First stop: poetry. Woodie Guthrie, Holy Ghost.
Second stop: hybrids. Pigeon-heart. Bird-dog.
Plucked tongue bone. Third stop fiction:
A slaughterhouse. A bristlecone. Fourth
is essay: What kills us softly. Eroica. Fifth is eye-
art: glass-lit kitchen; mismatched crone.
Reviews is sixth: peonies and summer
storms; intimacy of rising dough.
Last stop: contributors, quirks, the harbors
known. But linearity is not our mode.
Follow what flickers. If direction-prone, look
through windows that bring you glow.