I think what’s great about a literary journal like this one is that you never know what you’re going to get. To read Barnstorm is to continually step into the unknown.

Give me swill, give me / dirt between my follicles, give me sand /

from your eye

Perhaps I have a faulty circuit in my brain, but suddenly the most urgent thing was to explore, to find an adventure; something that would allow me to ignore the state of my marriage.

All summer long, the atmosphere pulses with the sense that anything, at any point, can happen. I love the island for this reason.

First, write. Let the monster free. And then, after grabbing that drink and snack, realizing nothing I said made any sense, tear the monster’s skin apart and return to the barest of bones.

I’m afraid for the future of the arts in this country and at my university. And yet, the pieces in this volume imbued me with hope.

She was my best friend in the world, but we fought ferociously, like feral cats, several times a week.

It doesn’t take long for comfort zones to turn into trash compactors.

I cannot bring myself to make the gesture that happens on television.  That, there, is fiction. This, here, is real.

The higher you climb the more you believe you are sky.

The nights are cooling down, the students are back on campus, and the leaves are just beginning to change, which means it’s time to introduce Barnstorm’s new editorial team.