On "Men, Women and Chainsaws" by Joy Wood, "Traveling East" by Kelly Lenox, and "Captions" by Scott Garson *****

There's something mysteriously disturbing about Joy Wood's poem on the connection between cutting things (fear) and joy, between men and women. But it is those connections that we don't see otherwise that poetry is often put to use to make, to make us rethink. Read the poem here at Elimae.

Given the brevity of many a poem (and generally speaking the poems I like most), a single extended metaphor will often do. And that is certainly the case with Kelly Lenox's "Traveling East," which draws some interesting parallels between the sun and a lover. But how what makes this poem work well comes in what it suggests in the last couple of lines. Read the poem here at Summerset Review.

Garson's "Captions" is a exactly what the title states--a collections of captions from photos we can't see. I never thought a set of captions, sans pictures, could be so evocative and personal, but Garson does it. He makes me want to get out the old yearbooks and cut out the pictures and just read the cutlines. Would they be more interesting? A former yearbook caption writer, somehow I doubt it--we agonized over those things, and they were rarely as good as these. Read the captions here at Elimae.

On "Titleist" by Peggy Price (883 words) ***

As with most things appearing in Elimae, this short piece concentrates on getting every word right, every image precise. I'm not quite sure what lurks behind this story (an adult woman returned home, spending days on the golf course with dad, looking for missing balls--these details hint to me some kind of misfortune in the woman's life, something she's looking for, trying to get over), but I admire the writing and the attention to detail. Simply gorgeous. Read the story here at Elimae.

On "DMV" by Ashley Farmer (416 words) ****

Back to an old theme--the idea of a story as an obsession. This one works with hands. Actually, this one works with a lot of things, a lot of images. It's the story of a woman going through a degree of stress, a canceled relationship of sorts. And it's tight. I love the image of the melted plastic on the dashboard. Love the way this piece comes to its bitter end. It's so calm, I didn't even realize what had happened at first--and when I did, I shivered. Read the story here at Elimae.