At the Fisherman’s Feast of the Madonna Del Soccorso di Sciacca

Michael McInnis

A boy said to his friend, I saw alien dervishes, rocket ship captains, deep sea divers, underground filmmakers, poets and carpenters.

I discussed crime and publishing and anarchy with four Charlies: Ponzi, Bukowski, Simic and Manson, the friend said.

I smelled molasses and rising seas.

If the seas rise we should line a cement bin with rubber and sail to Newfoundland.

Why Newfoundland, why not Greenland, or Iceland.

In Newfoundland, the friend said, we could fish the Flemish Cap from dories, stringing out our lines for cod and haddock.

Why fish the Flemish Cap, a boy said to his friend, when we could plunder Vinland all over again.


Issue 1 : Fall, 2016