Michael Rutherglen
Michael Rutherglen Michael Rutherglen is a founding editor of the Winter Anthology.


One thinks all day: the unresolved thought is as the whale of which one thinks as huge and blue and dead, which drifts all day obliquely down a gradient of blues, beryl to royal to naval to abyssal plain, borne hard upon by higher water, pressure as of consciousness upon the aching blank at the...


Onomatopoesis of the distance between us, alto echo of telos achieved, chimed reflection received in milliseconds, milli– meters of fiber by the millions. I loose this pulse, its volts, and wait— snowshine through the windows, shadows of hexadecimal flakes— as in the wires it makes and mirrors from here its way here again to show...

Summer in Symmetry

Sweat rorschached my shirtfront. Serenity said, everything that happens to me happens to me twice. One contrail bisected the sky.


From the mountain ridge, lights appear radiant, the sea indistinguishable from the sky at night, which must be the end of the world, a dark no one can cross. Wordless, you are the finger pointing to the highest branch, a plate pushed away, though the fruit is sweet and soft. Men spill from the pier...