A Short Story from Nick Kocz

TTR is pleased to present a work of short fiction by Nick Kocz: “Rhoda, my sister, knows a place where tomatoes grow wild on vines that are as thick as Jack’s beanstalk. She’s been picking them all morning and has lugged a weathered bushel basket of them up to the room we share on the third floor of Old Man Trash’s boarding house. How they grow in the wild, I do not know, but she boasts it as proof of America’s natural abundance…”

Gary McDowell

The Windows Are Always Open The body’s seasons never rest, so in death or in torture or in tongues—autumn.  The little boy huddled under Fischl’s table, sitting cross-legged, hair all in a mess, Hermaphrodite’s arm hanging over the edge, but in that painting, as in the summer that’s just passed, the windows are always open.

Gary McDowell

Mysteries in a World That Thinks There Are None Lately you’ve been dancing with all the other boys,      and by dancing I mean screwing, and by screwing I mean holding hands and sharing secrets: ants bleed      when they’re hurt, plants are capable of intent— will grow toward a support—and love is what happens      when a