There’s the Apocalypse, and then there’s Drucilla Wall. The whole world is a tree beside the house. Critters climb and live in it. Things with wings fly through it. Time is measured by it. Someone she loves stands beside it for a photograph. There he is, standing... The neon strobes its metallic blue: Sister Fay. The palm reader picks out love and money at the lunch pail intersection of Reisterstown and Liberty Roads. Northward, Julianna Spallholz reads her own palm. She plays a few numbers, and once spent an hour lightly... Making diamonds is a fairly simple process involving pressure (like that found at a depth of 100 miles), the elixir of time (about two billion years) and a little heat (1,400 degrees Celsius). Most writers spend their lives making diamonds from dead plants. As Billy... What goes down must come up. For a poet with a food disorder, controlling the line is sometimes an art, and sometimes a coping mechanism. Contributor Julia Wendell descends from a long line of psychological misfits which include Jane Austen, Radclyffe Hall, and...Trap Nest: Part One.