Flying Island

Editor's note: Today is the 100th anniversary of Jackie Robinson's birth. 42 From 90 by Christopher Stolle Jackie ran toward home his cleats stubborn his pants fashionably dirty his cap racing behind him the fans bewildered the pitcher stunned the catcher confused by such disregard for decorum the third base coach livid cursing, stomping, chasing after his charge the teammates swarming the coach retreating the manager fainting the umpire extending his arms to take flight with Jackie Bio: Christopher Stolle’s writing has appeared most recently in Tipton Poetry Journal, Flying Island, Edify Fiction, Contour, The New Southern Fugitives, The Gambler, Gravel, The Light Ekphrastic, Sheepshead Review, and Plath Poetry Project. He works as an acquisitions and development editor for Penguin Random House, and he lives in Richmond, Indiana.

Last(ing) Memories by Christopher Stolle Today’s kids don’t know the true wonderment of basements. At my grandparents’ house, we’d put a Ping-Pong table atop the pool table. I’d grab a Red Delicious from the mini fridge, put some Roger Miller or Royal Guardsmen on the turntable (which they also won’t know), then play epic battles against my dad, who played like he was the number one ranked player in the world. And he could have been if I didn’t learn all his tricks and mistakes. About Christopher Stolle: His poetry has appeared most recently or is forthcoming in the Burningword Literary Journal, Tipton Poetry Journal , Flying Island , Branches , Indiana Voice Journal, Snapdragon, Black Elephant, The Gambler, and Sheepshead Review. He works as an acquisitions and development editor for Penguin Random House, and he lives in Richmond, Indiana.

Bashō’s Pantomime Blues by Christopher Stolle I  –  Snap blown wind smothers night— moon cannot hibernate like honey: bare thy bees. II  –  Crackle snow bleeds on tulips— cold crystals undercover hues sleeping: wake up, spring. III  – Pop step toward memories— anguish lingers quickly: break through this verdant March. Statement: “Poetry is what I write when I can’t find any other means by which to express myself. I still write almost all my drafts by hand because it forces me to consider each word carefully. I’ve been writing poetry for more than 20 years, and I’ve published poems in more than 50 magazines and three anthologies. But I still continue to desire to share my poems with people everywhere. You never know what difference you might make in someone else’s life—all because of a few lines of poetry.”