I write, as Roethke says, "to solve all the leaps of light." I write to do with letters what Thelonious Monk did with piano keys.

It’s a fool who believes she can drink down the sea, sing it serene and quiet. The storm screams us all apart eventually.

People ran to keep their bodies tame, searched for every secret before the leaving.

We don’t come to this decision lightly, & we believe the extra breathing room is truly necessary to publishing Issue VIII with care & intentionality.

My grandmother introduced the piano to me through AM radio. She didn’t know piano, but she knew piano.

How many times can you choose the thing that hurts before you can’t call it an accident anymore.

Thank you for teaching us the grace of sandpaper, the razor-kiss of wreckage, staccato-sharp skeleton strung up to a 4/4 time signature.

Music is sacred and it is profane. I can’t help being intrigued by something that holds both so easily.

Songs for the Sforzando Issue (a selection)

The songs our team has been spinning as we work to curate your—& our own—burning & cracking & aching into something beautiful for you.

Is the sforzando the registration or the dread?