Winter 2000
Nelson James Dunford: The Bird Keeper	The boy had reached the far half of the field. The two birds flew above opposite parts of the clearing. Each began a circling glide down, each coming close to the other on the inside swing of its circle. At some twenty feet above the ground, they both rose again into the sky.
Cynthia Medford Langley: In Delos Still, and Young	Mark peels off me and shakes his head at the puddles in my hoary flesh. The streetlight finds me once he has lifted himself away. I glow like the moon. Mark gives me a towel for his sweat.
Charles Edward Brooks: The Doomsters	Lord knows he was careful. He always went through the service entrance at the hotel and up the back stairs to Flora's room. He came out the same way. But I hired some eyes to watch him.
Norman Lock: Through the Thorns	I mistook him for an ornithologist. We had gone to Tunis to rest our eyes. We'd been a long time in the wilderness and were in danger of acquiring the fixed stare of those who spend their days pursuing a single idea. We would, instead, pass a week looking at the Mediterranean, at its ceaseless alteration. Our eyes would recover their old interest in horizon.
Brock Taylor: Landfall	That image, the coyote in his field of white and yellow moving unhurriedly about his animal business, the business of survival, has been a mantra for me all my life. Secretly, I am that coyotoe: careful, cunning, and free. Anna, you always took me for a domesticated animal, you thought me tame -- but I was wild, in the heart of me.
Tara Masih: Sunday Drive	I watched his face, jawline working, brow shivering, the face of a man whose beliefs have fallen apart in his own hands. And I looked at them, his hands, one alternately caressing and gripping the bright blue plastic of the steering wheel, in the same way that he had held onto us, the other pushing at the dangling keys, as if restraining himself from the urge to continually turn them, to start the engine, or his life.
E. G. Silverman: Bagel Macher	Maria had lustrous black hair in a wonderful confusion of curls and waves and flips. Her white blouse was unbuttoned to the top of her Bagel Macher apron and I could see the shiny gold crucifix on her chest. She chewed gum, had little lines for eyebrows over brown eyes and lashes heavy with mascara, and she wore white lipstick that glistened like vanilla frosting.
Steve O'Keefe: Spill	In the back of Tony's truck, there was a gallon jug shaped like a bleach bottle half-filled with amber liquid. It was the color of good ale, not yellow like beer or brown like stout. Something had been hand-written on the jug with a magic marker -- I couldn't make it out. It looked like a chemical name. Why would Tony leave a jug of chemicals lying in the bed of his truck when he's got three small kids at home?
Anthony Garavente: Rude Awakening	Anthony looked down, unwilling to meet the others' eyes. He wanted to say something in retaliation, recalling his mother's oft-repeated admonition, "Don't ever let anybody call you a guinea!"
Les Smith: Marimba	He browsed among the stalls, going ever deeper into the market. All his senses were assailed, except for that of touch which left him isolated still. He sat at a food-stall counter, ordered an enchilada and washed it down with Tecate.
Karl Harshbarger: Going Out	The band palyed the same march over and over and over again until a line of men in gowns, all with those multi-colored pieces of cloth hanging down their backs, walked up onto the stage and stood wiile a minister came forward to the podium. I couldn't help but see that the man wearing the red gown, the one who had pinched my cheek, was right in the middle of the front row.
Marshal Howell: Bedtime Conversations	I roll onto my side. The air-conditioner hums, and purple shadows flit across the wall. Mye eyes close, and I sink into my mattress. After a while, I open my eyes, take a deep breath, and hug my pillow. I brush a strand of damp hair from behind my ear, letting my fingertips graze my earlobe. Then I kiss the back of my hand.