Ryan Collins


Dear Stamford—


                       So we meet again but outside the northeast
corridor. By your grandmother’s watch, the institutions
here have been slow to take hold. This pillar of Midwestern
virtue not yet sunk to the bedrock & what a delightful lilt we
must seem to have. We all lost the names of the boats which
brought us here & those not brought here by boat have gone
into hiding, but here we meet! west of Appalachia & east of
the Mighty. No transfers responsible for such happy happen-
stance—each conversation is one with a converse & no end in
sight. That makes about as much sense as how we meet, how
anything begins. But like those magic eye pictures, I can make
you out through the static.

Seeing is believing,





Archives: Issue Five: Fall 2011
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