Dawn Tefft recently graduated from University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee with a Ph.D. in creative writing. Her poems appear in Fourteen Hills and Sentence among other journals. Her e-chapbook, Field Trip to My Mother and Other Exotic Locations, can be found at Mudlark.This Is Not Attica
This is not a televised sensation flying with spit. This is not the winter of 1943. This is not mud in the mouth or face in the ditch. We are tired of your missives, sent in flowers and toilet paper and fists. This is not a slot machine where everyone rolls a...
Groceries. Beer. Liquor. Lottery.
My date studies geography, but not boring geography, hot geography. The kind where they figure the ratio of Jesus to horses. There’s always a ratio. Jesus to horses. High schools to Speedways. Liquor to lottery. All landscape makes me sad. There are always people picnicking near the pond at the end of...
Etc. and More About Fists
Fists are already making their way across the transcontinental divide are in the process of learning how to use sonar still haven’t read about inferior colliculus but are improving recipes for bundt cake while stealing your ex–wives from their dreams about getting back with you are salting the salt mines the diamond...
Clutching a Pole in Norway
The greatest tragedy that can befall us is to go unimagined. —N. Scott Momaday In this film, a reindeer girl hangs on in an incredible wind. In this film, my teacher tells my class about the Sami, Norway’s native peoples. In this film, sculptures of wood and fire line the edge of...
