I know Cassandra Smith and it’s been difficult to separate the person who drinks fancy cocktails with me in New Orleans when she comes to visit and the person who writes poems. Cassie is in study to be a muse. Cassie sends me emails that are short, tight, beautifully constructed. Sometimes Cassie sends me emails that I want to publish. Cassie is fond of Garamond, 10pt, and because of this, even though the font is used by many, I will never separate her from this font. If you send us submissions in Garamond, I will think of Cassie. The poems here are about a unicorn named u&i. These poems are about separation. These poems are about conflation. They are poems that are magical, poems about the forming of two, u&i and how quickly that two can become one, that we want to lose ourselves in another. How dangerous that is. How wonderful. How quiet it can be. When we lose ourselves into another something happens—a thought forms and we are no longer what we were. We are something else. We are a mythical creature. We are a unicorn, a mythical and beautiful beast. We are at once a beautiful proud thing and a delicate dream susceptible to the trickery of others and the evil of our own minds. A bit about unicorns gleaned from Wikipedia: Marianna Mayer writes of unicorns that they seem to be the only fabulous animal not created from human fears. That they are fierce and good and beautiful, only to be captured by deception. The Greeks did not write of unicorns in their mythology, but rather in their natural history: unicorns were real. Marco Polo once described a unicorn; turned out to be a rhinoceros. The royal throne of Denmark was made of unicorn horns. If the Danes were to rebuild that throne, it would be made of Cassie’s poems.