So now then, the facts of the matter, the numbers: our fifth is 84 pages longer than any previous issue, with at least 13 more contributors than ever before (circumstances this round are such that, odd as it may sound, we aren’t sure how many writers are featured in this issue!), over 39,000 words and many of them not at all the ones we were expecting, etc. etc. etc. Yeah. But you know what’s really interesting? It’s that this massive amalgam actually coheres, in completely unanticipated, surprising, and freaky ways. Take for example “Nest” by Andrea Fitzpatrick, which finds its thematic sister (daughter?) in “Hive” by Blake Butler; note the enigmatic appearance of Marlon Brando in the poems of The Pines (who?), knocking four times before fading into the ether, only to re-emerge as flesh in the midst of James Wagner’s suite 157 pages later; reflect upon Ben Stein’s “Wild Boy,” his words slowly disintegrating into Brownian motion for sound suspended in air as a precursor for the uncivilization of Peter Markus’ own boy and brothers. All of this is not to ignore the internal dualities: Angela Woodward’s lovely vignettes like trifurcate tangents of a single reality; the Dereks (we have two!) teaching us that repeating “Vine Street” enough times causes not only the words but the location to warp and morph; and even Jules Julien’s alternate half-bird, half-gun silhouettes adorning the front and back covers hint delicately at clues, a mystery to be solved. And maybe there is one. Far be it from us to suggest otherwise. That’s the part we leave to you, dear reader—happy hunting!

Cover images Copyright 2007 Jules Julien. Used by permission.

The title “the way the fisherman’s wife knits his death into the sweater” excerpted from “The Sweater,” a poem by Gregory Orr.