From the Whistler

Poetry

Wasps - Scott Provence

Marshland Dusk - John Philip Johnson

Gerwin - Calvin White

Near Harmony - John Abbott

The Wedding Room - Shanan Ballam

Hello - Maria Cinanni

November - Chip Corwin

Fiction

Angle Side Angle - Mary Lynn Reed

There Is Always More Work to be Done - Dave Barrett

The Relief Printer - Jessica Rae Hahn

Reviews

The Nine Scoundrels by Deanna Reiter

Elisha's Bones by Don Hoesel

Poetry Reviews

Whistling Shade's Literary Cafe Review

Memoir

My Meeting with Mengele - Maryla Neuman

Essay

Eating Your Words in a Prague Cafe - John-Ivan Palmer

John Dos Passos, a View from Left Field - Hugh Mahoney

Lost Writers of Minnesota: Clifford D. Simak - Joel Van Valin

Columns

Shading Dealings - Race-based Literary Journals

Fun Patrol - I Never Promised You a Shit Garden

Cover

The Wedding Room

Minnetonka Cave

Shanan Ballam

They shut down the lights
to demonstrate darkness. 
I put my hand before my face
and all I know are gobs and globes of black.
This is the Wedding Room.
I know that two feet away is a slick
stalagmite, the groom, thick as a tree trunk
and gold.  His stalactite bride stretches
her spine above him.  Splats of small
water drip from her tongue 
to his eyes.

My hand swipes the dark near my hip
where your hand always waits,
but you have moved in this thick blackness.
I make my lips and tongue form
slowly and silently over the word
flowstone, flowstone,
the shiny glaze of lime
that smoothes itself across
these stones so cold and deep in the earth.
Like us, the pair is only split
by a few feet of thin space.
But it will take thousands of years
for them to touch.


Shanan Ballamís poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Indiana Review, Tar River Poetry, Spoon River Poetry Review, Cream City Review, and Calyx.