Tom Russell: “Everyone Else Was Buying War Bonds”
Tom Russell Everyone Else Was Buying War Bonds Army patrols from the Frog Pond country school fought Nazis on the prairie at one recess and from high-flying swings at the next. Tom Russell‘s commute to...
View ArticlePeter Venable: “The Nazarene…”
Peter Venable The Nazarene eyed the temple and spoke of stones crumbling to dust, of stars dropping like hail on lanes, meadows, trees— the sun black as a crow’s eye. Peter Venable has written...
View ArticlePeter Venable: “Motionless…”
Peter Venable Motionless, crows eye me from branches and one, on a stump, displays wings—a parasol of sheen in sun’s shaft. Peter Venable has written hundreds of poems over decades, been published...
View ArticleJessica Isaacs
Jessica Isaacs silence He talks constantly, rambling on aimlessly just to fill the silence, because the silence says more than he’s ready to hear. Jessica Isaacs, the founder and co-editor of...
View ArticleGrant Quackenbush: “What He Said When I Put Him to Bed.”
Grant Quackenbush What He Said When I Put Him to Bed Some nights, lying on my back and staring up at this popcorned ceiling in the dark, I’ll think about the date I didn’t ask her out on, and how she...
View ArticleHowie Good: “In the Throes of Divination”
Howie Good In the Throes of Divination A man not unlike you or even me who is camping overnight in the woods wakes up with a start from a dream of a bear with dripping jaws biting his head to discover...
View ArticleSteven Deutsch: “Witness”
Steven Deutsch Witness Drawing upon the spotless rectangular plane, you gather her motion like you’d gather the air, as if by linking line to paper, you allow those who do not see the dancer to witness...
View ArticleTricia Sankey: “When I found you…”
Tricia Sankey When I found you, you were a book, knocked clean off a nightstand – spine splayed out, words that gasped, and I read all your pages on the floor, by candlelight. Tricia Sankey is a writer...
View ArticleKen Slaughter: “Just After”
Ken Slaughter Just After the power went off during my visit I reached out into the darkness to find my ex-wife’s hand. Ken Slaughter is a tanka writer who dabbles in other short poetry forms.
View ArticleSteve Klepetar: “The Coffee Drinker’s Son”
Steve Klepetar The Coffee Drinker’s Son He works in shade, dragging a hoe around a bed of lilies as she sips broken-hearted, wishing to be a frog clinging to mud, green body hidden in watery weeds....
View ArticleFlorence Reiss Kraut: “X-Country Skiing”
Florence Reiss Kraut X-Country Skiing After night snowfall, breath billows smoke in the still air and skis unzip the snow. Florence Reiss Kraut is a social worker and writer living in Rye, New York,...
View ArticleCatherine Moore: “Parable”
Catherine Moore Parable What forgiveness means: the baby reaches back towards breach, our ocean spins to speck, as wildfire ends on wick, the words on this page disappear. Read more about this poet...
View ArticleDeonte Osayande: “The Paranoia Says the Helicopter Searches For Me”
Deonte Osayande The Paranoia Says the Helicopter Searches For Me As the announcement of the training exercise on campus for the police force comes into my classroom and I joke about the threat, about...
View ArticleAmy Strauss Friedman: “Larger Than Us”
Amy Strauss Friedman Larger Than Us White mass indicates the tumor has grown, but all I see are the outlines of seagulls standing at the edge of an eroding beach. Amy Strauss Friedman teaches and...
View ArticleKeith Nunes: Untitled
Keith Nunes Inside the green so deeply the ferryman seems like a far-off star suggesting Thai for dinner. Keith Nunes (Lake Rotoma, New Zealand) was a newspaper sub-editor for more than 20 years but...
View ArticleKeith Nunes: Untitled
Keith Nunes The sound she makes when having sex is like the last of a species caught in a blizzard. Keith Nunes (Lake Rotoma, New Zealand) was a newspaper sub-editor for more than 20 years but now he...
View ArticleTrish Saunders Uncomplaining Poems
Trish Saunders Uncomplaining Poems Lunchtime Détente I pretend your rhinestone bracelet glitters from your wrist and not the floor— you will gaze at the ceiling when our waiter hands over my credit...
View ArticleC. G. Vowles: “Parados”
C. G. Vowles Parados When the last pigeon dies and tilts itself from life, let us have blackbirds to darken the frosted rooftops. C. G. Vowles teaches English in a boarding school in North Yorkshire,...
View ArticleShloka Shankar: “Green Room”
Shloka Shankar Green Room A break-up is like Death pacing up and down in the green room, his penultimate appearance before the curtain closes. Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer from India. She loves...
View ArticleTrish Saunders: “To the actor portraying Federico Garcia Lorca
Trish Saunders To the actor portraying Federico Garcia Lorca You are old now, too old for this part leave Lorca dreaming of apples in his Spanish grave, and tend to your own trees, with plums full of...
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