THE POINTED CIRCLE: ISSUE 41
Letter from the Editors
For the 41st Issue of Pointed Circle, we asked writers to DIG IN, which is code for “please excavate something weird and shimmering from the dirt heap of real life” and they obliged. What arrived felt less like a stack of manuscripts and more like a box of glow worms, restless, humming, hungry for oxygen.
We got pieces that sprout tendrils, reaching sideways to feed the lines beside them, pieces that remember the body, the soil, the city block as interlocking systems where one fracture can compromise the whole canopy. Even the quiet ones came carrying a spade, ready to overturn the polite soil and show you the wriggling networks beneath. Community, grief, and radical hope, they all thread through these pages like filaments, unseen but impossible to ignore once you feel the ground pulse underfoot.
Many of these voices belong to writers and artists who have been paved over or talked around. They know the ground is never neutral; it takes notes. While we center on the PCC community, geography is just a detail. If you can swing a metaphorical shovel, you belong at this dig site; the elk aren’t the only ones allowed to roam. W e editors understand that if you want honest truths, you sometimes have to invite the raccoons, the angels, and the half‐remembered jukebox songs into the same living room and see who speaks first.
Carry a little soil in your pocket, a new question at the back of your throat, and if you leave these pages feeling tangled? Good. Entanglement is evidence of life.
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