carolina quarterly 62.2

P O E T R Y | F I C T I O N | E S S A Y S | R E V I E W S

CAROLINA QUARTERLYTHE

F A L L 2 0 1 2 I S S U E | V O L . 6 2 , N O . 2

TH

E C

AR

OL

INA

QU

AR

TE

RLY

FA

LL

20

12 | V

OL. 6

2, N

O. 2

$ 9 . 0 0 F R E E T O U N C S T U D E N T S

I remember that phrase, cracked his head open, which the grown-ups repeated, and which seemed both more and less than what really happened. Sharper than a blow, say, or a thump. Something razor-edged and irreparable. Cracks are small and insidious, the start of some unforeseen disaster, like the cracks in the earth’s surface from which volcanoes erupt, craggy and molten. Or even the sidewalk in front of the Shop Rite, that was now upended, churned through with dirt and dry, dead earthworms and rotten tree roots; to be avoided, circumvented, dangerous. As if, having been weakened by that first fissure in his soft skull, the whole rickety job could come undone at any moment. J E S S I C A H E N D RY N E L S O N

Caitlin Bailey

Eleanor Leonne Bennett

Willy Conley

Anya Groner

Stuart Nadler

Seth Perlow

Ben Purkert

Stan Sanvel Rubin

Greg Schutz

Elizabeth Weld

Corrie Williamson

and more

F E A T U R I N G A D D I T I O N A L W O R K B Y

cq_coverfileFINAL10.indd 1 8/23/12 8:52 AM


F A L L 2 0 1 2 I S S U E | V O L . 6 2 , N O . 2

C H R O N I C V A G A B O N D A G E S I N C E 1 9 4 8

The Carolina Quarterly is published three times per year at the University

of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Subscription rates are $24 per year to

individuals and $30 to institutions. Current single issues, back issues, and

sample copies are $9 each. Remittance must be made by money order or

check payable in U.S. funds. Numbers issued before Volume 21 (1969) can be

reproduction of single articles and issues can be obtained from University

The Carolina Quarterly

business correspondence should be addressed to the appropriate genre editor

at The Carolina Quarterly, Greenlaw Hall CB #3520, University of North

Carolina, Chapel Hill, NC 27599-3520. No manuscript can be returned nor

query answered unless accompanied by a stamped, self-addressed envelope; no

responsibility for loss or damage will be assumed. We are also now accepting

submissions through our website. We do not review manuscripts during the

rest of the year, please allow up to four months for response.


Bibliography of English Language and Literature. Member Coordinating

Library of Congress catalogue card number 52019435.

ABOVE | Wind Breaking an Umbrella


COVER | high simple


AUTHOR NAME 3

ASSISTANT EDITORS

Bhumi Dalia

Heather Van Wallendael

COVER DESIGN

F O U N D E D I N 1 9 4 8AT T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O RT H CA RO L I N A – C H A P E L H I L L

ABOVE | Wind Breaking an Umbrella


COVER | high simple


Matthew Hotham | EDITOR- IN-CHIEF

O N L I N E AT www.thecarol inaquarterly.com

F O U N D E D I N 1 9 4 8AT T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O RT H CA RO L I N A – C H A P E L H I L L

FICTION EDITORS

Lindsay Starck

NON-FICTION EDITOR

POETRY EDITOR

Lee Norton

WEB EDITOR

INTERNS

Nathan Vail, and William Wright

FICTION READERS: Raskulinecz, Jerrod Rosenbaum, L. Lamar Wilson, and Nate Young

POETRY READERS: Jasmine V. Bailey, Emily Banks, Melissa Birkhofer, Matthew Harvey, Rachel Kiel, and

Liana Roux

NON-FICTION READERS:

C O N T E N T S

F A L L 2 0 1 2 | V O L . 6 2 , N O . 2

P O E T R Y

9 STAN SANVEL RUBIN | Celebration A Brief History of Music

12 CAITLIN BAILEY | Grete Asks the Hard Question This is the House

32 CORRIE WILLIAMSON | Scala Naturae, or Southern Vivisection The Mole, The Sweet Potato, and the

Possibility of Allegory

44 SHELLEY PUHAK | Guievere, Facing Forty in Baltimore, Writes to Lancelot Guinevere, After Arthur’s Appointment with

the Specialist The Court Physician Interrogates Guinevere

48 DAVID MOOLTEN | The Robber Bridegroom

78 SETH PERLOW | Dear Future Self

82 MATT ZAMBITO |

95 BEN PURKERT | Slow Accretion of Color in a Mind Borderless but at the Very Edge of Things Disassociated Self-Portrait from Ten Thousand Feet Shown an Image of an M&M Wrapper, a Subject Salivates

F I C T I O N

7 ELIZABETH WELD | Primary Education

36 ANYA GRONER | Gorilla and the Protégé

57 GREG SCHUTZ | The Sweet Nothings

84 STUART NADLER | Airplanes

N O N - F I C T I O N

14 JESSICA HENDRY NELSON | If Only You People Could Follow Directions

R E V I E W S

100 CHRISTOPHER ARMITAGE | Inward of Poetry George Johnston & William Blisset in letters

102 EVAN GURNEY | That Was Oasis

A R T

6 ELEANOR LEONNE BENNETT | an electric s

26 WILLY CONLEY | Human Sign Language Series

49 ADITYA SHRINGAPURE |

77 ELEANOR LEONNE BENNETT | high simple

94 ELEANOR LEONNE BENNETT | rekinde

106 Contributors

6 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY

ELEANOR LEONNE BENNETT | an electric s

ELIZABETH WELD 7

ELIZABETH WELD

Primary Education

left, girls on the right. Crayons and pencils were waiting inside each of

ink, “These are for you to keep—Sincerely, Mr. Windenmeyer.”

in a furious knot of brown hair on the back of her head.

down the row toward her desk. “Girls have a harder life than boys,” he

-

ing right in on the knot in her hair. “How they manage to keep such long

to cry, my dear,” he said to Sarah, whose eyes were closed against fat,

embarrassed tears. “Kids, this will just take a minute,” he said to the rest

of us, who took his kindness as an invitation to forgo our own seats and

crowd around him and Sarah, our arms touching, all of us breathing on

said to Sarah, who was now looking cautiously at the group of us.

“My name is Mr. Windenmeyer,” he said from the front of the room

left inside your desk.

Quietly, Sarah laughed, and then we all laughed, relieved, at least

in my case, to see that her suffering was over, and because we now knew

everything we needed to know about Mr. Windenmeyer, which was that

he was kind and would not embarrass us.


A Brief History of Music

one time or another.

Suddenly, after months or years of longing,

we decide to get Eurydice back,

we go searching

all over the dark city.

The bells of night ringing in our brain.

Now there is this.

of a saint, the wanton recklessness

Nevertheless, like a hero

in the moment of cosmic illumination,

all your trumpets blaring,

you see her move behind a smoky curtain.

waiting. Maybe her crude heart

STAN SANVEL RUBIN 11

has not been split like yours

into two parts,

a tempo for each longing.

Maybe you open

the wrong door by mistake,

and rush in.


JESSICA HENDRY NELSON

If Only You People Could Follow Directions

The motel is flamingo pink, stucco walls dripping with humidity; the

-

tepid water and staring up at the rain clouds that rush by. The muscular

white sun squeezes my head like a stress ball. Yesterday, a temperamen-

tal Broadway actor leaped from the fortieth floor of a New York City

high rise only to land, broken but alive, in the bed of a candy-red Dodge

Charger. The story was on every news station. The media psychoana-

the irony of his situation, the soap opera script, which is pretty much

blaring trumpet solos, frenetic sound bites from a nearby highway. Even

the foliage is offensive. The leaves are as big as platters and so bright

-

leon capering around a drainpipe. Curtains wave and draw open on the

third floor.

unbalanced, always with an apolo-

other out at just the wrong time, when one or all of us is about to go over

the deep end. My mother, my brother and me. This reminds me of the

way my extended family tends to gather only for funerals. We do a lot

JESSICA HENDRY NELSON 15

-

less black kelp, choking and sputtering, a monstrous pale hand suddenly

wrenching me free, tossing me across millions of miles of space into a

different hemisphere, a different planet, then a second of shimmering

exultation before the break.

My mother smears cream cheese onto a bagel at the wobbly glass table

next to the pool and worries aloud about my brother, Eric, alone in our

motel room.

She does.

Eric was recently kicked out of the sober community he has been living

searched his car outside of a 7-11 after a friend was caught trying to

swipe a seven-dollar bottle of sparkling rosé. That was six months ago,

bound.

dorm room, where they like nothing better than to huddle together on


WILLY CONLEY | Poretto Beach

29WILLY CONLEY | Old Kart Track


The Mole, the Sweet Potato,and the Possibility of Allegory

potatoes, a hole chewed

through the skin of some,

wedge of orange meat

where a mole encountered

at the end of his nose bumping

straight into that subterranean

mother lode, blindly caressing

the tuber with the branched

mitts of his hands, scenting out

its complicated rough contours,

snarl, gnawing into the soft

are the shade of a harvest moon

low on the horizon. He eats

awed, but when he leads

the other moles here to share

in the tunnel, vein teeming with dark

CORRIE WILLIAMSON 35

blood towards a heart, there is only

an empty socket, a room whose walls

are soil, faintly fragrant.

53ADITYA SHRINGAPURE | Paradigms: Six

AD

ITY

A S

HR

ING

AP

UR

E | M

usin

gs: U

rban

Spa

ces

4

GREG SCHUTZ 57

GREG SCHUTZ

The Sweet Nothings

Valerie met Mack thirty years ago. She was studying elementary

education at North Carolina State, and he played right tackle—second

string—for the Wolfpack football team. They were partners in a chemistry

lab, a required science credit Valerie had overlooked until this, her senior

year. Mack, meanwhile, was a freshman, a hulking, overgrown boy from

the western part of the state. He had a stiff brown brush of hair and a face

forehead and cheeks.

Still, he was an athlete, and on Tuesday and Thursday mornings

she watched him navigate the crowded hall and narrow classroom aisles

tackle graduated, Mack would be promoted to starter—if he maintained

his grades. Valerie suspected that she, trained to cajole children into

learning through charm, trickery, and force, had been made his partner

in order to protect him.

to her bordered on reverence. He wrote down measurements as she called

earned a B-minus, he asked her to a movie.

had once described her as an ample girl

Miracle on 34th Street

her and covered her hand on the armrest with his. His palm was warm,

heavy, and damp.

experience was new and disorienting. What did Mack see that other boys

“Tell me what you love about me.”


be coaxed into speaking through clear commands. Still, the request was

sincere.)

“Hey now.” He plucked at his lower lip as if trying to draw out the

True.

But he was good at other things. His hand at the small of her back

between her thighs with a gentleness so unlike yet so necessary to the

Lover. That word, its ponderous romanticism, had a way of sneak-

together, the smells. Ample lover, she thought.

Her parents, Diana and Ned, lived in nearby Cary and approved of

Mack in the same simple way they approved of nearly everything Valerie

called Saluda, the son of a machinist and grandson of a logger. He rarely

mentioned his family.

“She wants to talk to you.” He held the phone out to Valerie.

Mack, hovering over her shoulder, stole the phone away.

of trouble bound them together somehow.

That summer, Mack tore ligaments in his knee during a blocking

GREG SCHUTZ 59

Valerie placed her hand on his thigh. Love was a new muscle sewn

Mack was simply there, as steady and unremarkable as the summer heat.

squeeze.

“Stay with me,” she said.

Diana were less inclined to judge. They were easygoing, affable people,

well-matched. “He makes you happy,” Diana said at Thanksgiving. She

watching a football game. Something had happened. They pounded each

other on the back, whooping.

“He does.” Valerie dug a corkscrew into a bottle of gooseberry

wine.

say this with apparent conviction than that she actually feel convinced.

Later, Valerie would recall her early years with Mack as the happiest

of her life; at the time, however, they rarely seemed so. There was, for

with and made smaller still by their shared bulk, their inability to pass

from the kitchenette to the closet-like bathroom to the futon sofa that

doubled as their bed without brushing one another. There was the terrible

anxiety that overtook her each morning as she left for work, to stand

alone before a room full of kindergartners, the rows of little upturned

whether she cared to or not.


STUART NADLER

Airplanes

Sunday copy of the Times on a lark at a grocery near his home in the

South End. Hers is the featured home in the Sunday section devoted to

But none of her. This, even now, is surprisingly disappointing.

miniature, does his best to understand the comics. He reads slowly,

haltingly, but with a sense of determination that leads Marc to believe

the boy will be bright. Jack enjoys the old classics, the same strips that

Marc enjoyed at the same age, before his interests were consumed by

sports, and then girls, and then, apparently, the real estate section.

Garfield. The Far Side. Spiderman. The boy reads with his fingers

against the paper, tracing the dialogue bubbles up and along as the story

paper, and shows off how the ink can be bled away, like a printing press

in reverse. Even after hundreds of applications, the boy still finds this

process fascinating.

thinks. While he is at work, the two of them sit around here, at this table,

listening to the stereo, dancing in the kitchen. Now, Janet is sleeping in.

roommates sharing a child, a statement she levied without any theatrics

This is his gift to her: time away. Still though, he has everything ready for

STUART NADLER 85

pancakes, so that if she emerges ahead of schedule he can fall swiftly into

Both of them seem to know this.

The boy asks this because Marc is wearing the apron Janet gave him

to remove it.

have hamburger pancakes.”

This makes Marc laugh, but then, hearing in his head the strenuous

tone his wife assumes when trying to be the disciplinarian, he stiffens,

a cunning ability to incisively diagnose some nagging psychic itch of his

that Marc has wondered if he can train the boy to see through the fog and

give him his own small desk and his own bank of small monitors. Late

this. But then, there are other moments, such as what he awoke to this

somehow to get the poor thing to move its lips like the talking animals on

television—when the opposite is proven true.

“Houses in the paper.”


Shown an Image of an M&M Wrapper, a Subject Salivatesthe mind is so easily

off deer

from a herd, the one

the herd guessed

but never

said anything & they

let the mind be

ravaged, this way

they might

stand a chance

& it was so

freeing to look on

with no mind!

the parts

being eaten in

BEN PURKERT 99

sequence, the jaws

closing on

the very little

bones of

the mind & when

the herd left to

roam they

fell sideways, their

mouths oh-so-close

in the grass


CHRISTOPHER ARMITAGE

Joyous FeastingInward of Poetry: George Johnston & William Blisset in Letters

432 pages; $29.95 paperback

inward mind of the poet into a visible form, and eventually become a pub-

Inward of Poetry, which documents the 50-year friendship

between George Johnston and William Blissett, illuminates this process.

The two men met as doctoral candidates at the University of Toronto in

1945-46, and advanced together to become professors. Despite this shared

history, they differed greatly in lifestyle. Johnston spent most of World

bought a car,” with which he could eventually “do everything but park &

[was] nearly ready to take the Test”! Their lifelong exchange of letters—

-

to 1972, while the remaining chapters are organized into distinct themes.

Fairie

Queene, which he had read eight times by the 1950s and on which he

-

the expanding recognition of Canadian poetry; the tenth details “Travels”

who studied under both men, serves as a narrator, providing helpful links,

analyses, and notes at the end of each chapter.

CHRISTOPHER ARMITAGE 101

Johnston, who became a professor at Carleton College (later Univer-

carefully shaped poems, usually short and rhymed. Many of them he sent,

increasing immersion in Scandinavian languages and dialects, and his

adaptation of their skaldic verse forms, such as the dróttkvætt, in his

persuade Blissett that writing short stories was not his forte.

Blissett headed the English Department at Huron College in the

wide-ranging and distinguished record of published books and articles,

he edited the University of Toronto Quarterly from 1965 through 1976,

contributed papers at conferences and supervised numerous theses. His

Lolita

have read every book by D.H. Lawrence with the exception of Lady Chat

(sic).” His many reading recommendations to Johnston include Her Privates

We Lord of the Flies by William Golding. He was

also an inveterate traveler to England and Europe; in one sabbatical year he

Electra “left me a nervous wreck, but otherwise unmoved.”

Inward of Poetry has been meticulously produced by The

-

McVey as “McVeigh” after meeting them during a visit to Huron, where

-

Blissett, now 90 himself, continues to publish and present papers on a

regular basis.


EVAN GURNEY

No Desert of Dry VerseThat Was Oasis by Michael McFee

That Was Oasis.

No matter how enlightened or liberated your reading habits, it still feels

odd, even a little disconcerting, to have so much fun reading poems. Con-

the sublime heights of his paean to pork skins, “the apotheosis of the

epidermis”; cigarette butts as “used-up hyphens fallen out of conversa-

That Was Oasis.

(as in “Salt” or “Gravy”) or its persistent musicality (with homages to

Earl Scruggs and Thelonious Monk, among others), be sure to revel in its

riotous personality, its verbal experimentation, its sheer pleasure in

seriously

funny.

whimsy, these are poems with weight and heft to them, many of them

sad and profound, others intensely lyrical, and all of them artful in their

phrases, they work so well because he folds them into otherwise tight and

EVAN GURNEY 103

at the inevitable griefs of life, his deft touch with irony capturing the

fullness of human experience. Much of this counterpoint is achieved by

a (sometimes irreverent) spiritual vocabulary that infuses the work with

a sense of the sacred. Tinged with melancholy, and haunted by a familiar

specter of mortality, That Was Oasis possesses an urbane humor that is

knowing but not analytical, wise without condescension, born of a deep

love and understanding of people, their quirks and psychoses—even, or

The poems themselves are often centered on some small domestic

action on the periphery, gesturing at a larger narrative. His perspective

is at once acute and insightful, alive to the lyrical moment, mining the

psychological depths of the everyday while also spanning a lifetime. His

of “bunk” or references to spooked copperheads creeping down into

-

fying breadth and encyclopedic fullness. Unhurried but never slow, the

the reader never feels the need for an oasis. Each poem refreshes in its

own way; this is no desert of dry verse.

-

self returning to the beautiful “Bibliotaph,” with its tight quatrains in

short measure stacked up like a pile of thick tomes, bound together by

reading “Hydrotherapeutical,” a testament to his tonal range and

thematic texture. The poem is composed of a single, melodic, languid

plow back and forth...slowly laying open the same long slippery furrow.”

Note the casual gesture at boustrophedon here, as laborers turn their


could toast the brothers Jacuzzi.” The poem might have ended there in

-

tural conceit has suddenly shifted into a somber register, and though the

speaker remains buoyant in his water and his wine (“age-bruised fruit”),

row of earth.

-

tive portraits of domestic relations, the witty celebration of language, the

on the rest of the volume, it feels set apart somehow, a new project, its

he has included the same number of sections as batters faced by a pitcher

who throws a perfect game. He shows off an impressive command of

pacing and a formal versatility as he makes his way through the sequence,

mixing in the occasional changeup for balance (a gangly, mawkish

Thomas Wolfe as batboy!), and weaving a rich chronological tapestry

Cobb, Dock Ellis, Willie Stargell, Nolan Ryan, and others—but instead

the bright-eyed old man in the stands who keeps a precise box score.

and here the aged scorekeeper transforms into a bardic surrogate: “he

watches closely, then he writes”; he lisps in numbers, for the numbers

EVAN GURNEY 105

few hours, for a few months,” his own verse is a worthy stand-in for a

cosmic game of life, sitting there in the bleachers, watching, watching,

marking down our errors and our triumphs, preserving it all, “part of a

neatly-tallied sum.”


C O N T R I B U T O R S

F A L L 2 0 1 2 | V O L . 6 2 , N O . 2

CHRISTOPHER ARMITAGE, who joined the UNC-Chapel Hill faculty

in 1967, specializes in seventeenth- and twentieth-century English and

University in 1967. His recent publications include The Poetry of Piety:

An Annotated Anthology of Christian Poetry, which he compiled with

UNC alumnus Rev. Dr. Ben Witherington; and “Blue China and Blue

Oscar Wilde: The Man,

His Writings and His World, edited by Robert N. Keane.

CAITLIN BAILEY Water~Stone

Review. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming from

Bateau, Lumina, Paper Darts, Poetry City, USA, Vol. 2, and elsewhere.

She is learning to live in the woods after many years in the city.

ELEANOR LEONNE BENNETT is a 16 year old internationally award

winning photographer and artist. Her photography has been published

in the Telegraph, The Guardian, BBC News Website and on the cover of

books and magazines in the United States and Canada. Her art is also

exhibited globally.

WILLY CONLEY Deaf American Poetry,

Modern Haiku, Urbanite, Kaleidoscope, American Theatre, The Deaf Way

II Anthology, Deaf World, The Washington Post, The Baltimore Sun, The

Tactile Mind, and No Walls of Stone. His most recent book was Vignettes

of the Deaf Character and Other Plays. He is currently a professor of

liberal arts university for deaf and hard-of-hearing students.

CONTRIBUTORS 107

ANYA GRONER Ninth Letter, The Rumpus,

Juked

her second time gambling.

EVAN GURNEY -

versity of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He is the former editor of The

Carolina Quarterly.

DAVID MOOLTEN Primitive Mood, won the T.S.

2009. He is a physician specializing in transfusion medicine. He lives,

STUART NADLER is the author of the story collection The Book of Life

and the novel Wise Men, which will be published in early 2013.

JESSICA HENDRY NELSON

journal, The Fiddleback. Her work has been published or is forthcoming

in The Threepenny Review, Crab Orchard Review, Painted Bride Quar-

terly, Drunken Boat, Alligator Juniper, Fringe, and elsewhere. She was a

Alligator Juniper’s

lives in Vermont.

SETH PERLOW

variety of journals and anthologies, including Horse Less Review, The

Common, elimae, Opium, The Cortland Review, TextSound, Revista

Respiro, and New Pony: A Horse Less Anthology. His chapbook, Robot

Portrait of Homo Futurus

doctoral candidate in English at Cornell University, where he studies

appeared in Mantis, The Wallace Stevens Journal, In Media Res, and

Convergence.


SHELLEY PUHAK is the author of Stalin in Aruba, winner of the 2010

The Consolation of Fairy

Tales,

appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Southeast

Review, and many other journals.

BEN PURKERT

in The New Yorker, Denver Quarterly, The Awl, Spoon River, New

Orleans Review, DIAGRAM, and elsewhere. He holds degrees from

One Good

STAN SANVEL RUBIN Hidden

Sequel, a Barrow Street

work in Poetry Northwest, Agni Online, The Laurel Review, Supersti-

tion Review, Cider Press Review, and Hubbub

Water~Stone Review.

GREG SCHUTZ

His stories have received special mention in both Best American Short

Stories and Best American Mystery Stories, and his recent work can be

found in Ploughshares, Sycamore Review, and New Stories from the

Midwest

is the title story.

ADITYA SHRINGARPUREis a mixed media artist and his focus is on urban decay, renewal, and

architecture. He has a BS degree in Telecommunications from the

University of Bombay and a Masters degree in Computer Engineering

from NC State University. His works have appeared in various exhibits

CONTRIBUTORS 109

-

works in Brooklyn, New York and is an active member of Madarts.org,

an arts collective.

ELIZABETH WELD the Gettysburg

Review, Crazyhorse, Arts & Letters, Fourth Genre, Shenendoah, and

The Writer’s Gym

The Southern Review. She is a writer and editor who lives in Tempe,

CORRIE WILLIAMSON

appeared or are forthcoming in The Southeast Review, Fourteen Hills,

cream city review, 32 Poems, and elsewhere.

MATT ZAMBITO

poems are forthcoming in Crazyhorse, Arts & Letters, Barrow Street,

and Birmingham Poetry Review. He writes from Spokane, Washington.


The Carolina Quarterly thrives thanks to the institutional support of the

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and our generous individual donors.

Beyond the printing of each issue, monetary and in-kind donations help to fund

opportunities for our undergraduate interns, university, and community outreach

would like more information about donating to the Quarterly, please contact us

GUARANTORS

Tessa Joseph-Nicholas

FRIENDS

George Lensing

Department.

This publication is funded in part by student fees, which were appropriated

and dispersed by the Student Government at UNC-Chapel Hill.


AGNI

AGNIwww.agnimagazine.org

code PN06 for 20%new subscriptons

testing the edgesince 1972

C

M

Y

CM

MY

CY

CMY

K

agnitestpattern228ss.ai 4/27/11 9:49:34 AM

Readers of The Carolina Quarterly have enjoyed over six decades of


may support The Carolina Quarterly

outlined below.


the cost of subscription are tax-deductible.

REGULAR SUBSCRIPTION $24 | 1-year subscription

PATRONS $40 MEMBER | 1-year subscription

$60 FRIEND | 2-year subscription

$85 SPONSOR | 3-year subscription

$115 BENEFACTOR | 4-year subscription

$150 GUARANTOR | 5-year subscription

NAME

ADDRESS

Please send a gift subscription to:

NAME

ADDRESS

CB # 3520, 510 Greenlaw Hall

Chapel Hill, N.C. 27599-3520

[email protected]

W E T H A N K Y O U F O R Y O U R S U P P O R T

O N L I N E AT www.thecarolinaquarterly.com

C H R O N I C VA G A B O N D A G E S I N C E 1 9 4 8


CAROLINA QUARTERLYTHE

F A L L 2 0 1 2 I S S U E | V O L . 6 2 , N O . 2

TH

E C

AR

OL

INA

QU

AR

TE

RLY

FA

LL

20

12 | V

OL. 6

2, N

O. 2

$ 9 . 0 0 F R E E T O U N C S T U D E N T S

I remember that phrase, cracked his head open, which the grown-ups repeated, and which seemed both more and less than what really happened. Sharper than a blow, say, or a thump. Something razor-edged and irreparable. Cracks are small and insidious, the start of some unforeseen disaster, like the cracks in the earth’s surface from which volcanoes erupt, craggy and molten. Or even the sidewalk in front of the Shop Rite, that was now upended, churned through with dirt and dry, dead earthworms and rotten tree roots; to be avoided, circumvented, dangerous. As if, having been weakened by that first fissure in his soft skull, the whole rickety job could come undone at any moment. J E S S I C A H E N D RY N E L S O N

Caitlin Bailey


Willy Conley

Anya Groner

Stuart Nadler

Seth Perlow

Ben Purkert

Stan Sanvel Rubin

Greg Schutz

Elizabeth Weld

Corrie Williamson

and more

F E A T U R I N G A D D I T I O N A L W O R K B Y


carolina quarterly 62.2

Documents

g e s i n c e

d d i t i o n

h e n d ry n e

t h e u n

obbf o u n d e d i n

comf o u n d e d i n

s s u e v o

j e s s i c