Ian Berger: I dig autumn from the hole in the backyard; taste the liver spots on the daylight come through the kitchen window; where I can see the green seep through, down the river basin
 
Michael Rerick: in the front yard of a human sized house tingling in the dripping tree dangle grey rocks shimmer with life’s origins expecting the squirrel and crow with the cool morning and getting them the grass is getting scratchy
 
Sara Barnett: Tumbleweeds be both battering and beguiling. Feel them soft if they stop at your foot, let you pat their knotted hair unaware the ghost that frames you. All times. Best beware...
 
Dave Brennan: One kid cardigan-ed up as Mister Rogers. The white nationalist came looking like your too-loud uncle who loves a good Dollar General deal. All the other children grinned for the cameras then collapsed: dead children.