I have friends that I’ve lost touch which and I’m 300% sure that it’s my fault. With that realization I am aware that the absences clutter up my mind in ways that keeping in touch probably wouldn’t have. My curiosity hasn’t disappeared. What’s going on with my friends? Who are they now? I’m not much for nostalgia, but there’s quite an accumulated attraction to all that which surrounds absences.

Of course, I happen to be an editor of tiny work where one becomes comfortable with the ever-expanding space around limited words. And if there’s any discernible theme to this issues’ micros, I believe it’s that we’re exploring absences floating inside their larger complexity. Take Emma Phillips’ “How to Package a Heart” with its step-by-step procedural. Following directions is often deceptively complicated — here we’re using scientific terms to couch what we may give away emotionally.

Nia Mahmud’s “In Mourning” communicates the new absence of a place where memories for some were being built. For others such a place may seem to be an invasion. Helen Chen’s “Ordinary Excitement” puts the sky under a microscope (maybe a telescope) wielded by a wise grandfather.

Kimberly Potthast’s “People I Love But Haven’t Met” sets up how easily family stories proliferate, especially when there’s no baggage associated with actually living alongside a person. Emma Francois explores family memories differently; these are built from a narrator’s vivid past experiences in “Faith” and “Dear Linnea.”  When teased with dizzying detail our curiosity runs wild.

And in Keith R. Courtad’s “Haunted by Algorithms” a collection of micropoems reveals sensory delights both of nature, and human-made, whether we’re experiencing each moment or being told about it. When we get a whiff of that old, time-specific baseball card, I was transported and I didn’t want to experience it alone. So whether we’ve fallen out of touch or if we’re meeting for the first time, please join me as we explore these excellent micro selections. Shall we indulge our curiosity? I’m 400% sure I would be at fault if I didn’t at least ask.

Sincerely,

JR Walsh
Online Editor
The Citron Review