Joy Kettren: “Anna Mae”
Joy Kettren Anna Mae Her mind is a book with a broken spine, opening to the same few, favored passages again and again. Joy Kettren had a late start, but has been writing poetry for about 15 years....
View ArticleRobert E. Petras: “This Day Again”
Robert E. Petras This Day Again As I see my grandfather lob a baseball that lands a soccer ball at the feet of my granddaughter I realize that we go through this life not in straight lines but in a...
View ArticleJohn Riley: “Twigs”
John Riley Twigs When you wake from a stranger’s sleep the day is not a dove to light in a green cloud of trees, nor does the sum of each tree’s branches equal the branch from which they come. John...
View ArticleMark Young: “The Spiritual Exercises”
Mark Young The Spiritual Exercises Whilst examining Harvard’s historical plate collection we discover a magnificent pipe organ, a printing press, & a large number of suicides. Mark Young‘s most...
View ArticleDeonte Osayande: “Cellular”
Deonte Osayande Cellular If I made an app on my phone for black love I would name it something like did you eat or let me know when you made it home safely because I need the condition of my lover’s...
View ArticleWilliam Cullen, Jr.: “The Day a Nature Journal Lost Its Grant”
William Cullen, Jr. The Day a Nature Journal Lost Its Grant A truck backfires and flurries suddenly appear as if some hunter had blasted a snowy egret out of the sky— a no-fly zone for beauty. The...
View ArticleGabriel Patterson: “A Summer to Remember”
Gabriel Patterson A Summer to Remember With Peppermint Schnapps in my dad’s tool belt, we remodeled our house one summer, when the only sound I could hear was that of a Spalding basketball, bouncing...
View ArticleErica Goss: “Penitent”
Erica Goss Penitent They die in secret places, bodies whisked away, not a scrap left behind, still I have found them, whole and pliable, eyes not yet dull, fit the small bulk into my palm, and felt as...
View ArticleKay Pillai: “The Shy Flower”
Kay Pillai The Shy Flower When a petal finally gave way he knew this was not the kind of bloom that lured from miles away with its glory but a shy flower that would wilt a little at his every touch,...
View ArticleMonica Flegg: “Yellow Fire Hydrant”
Monica Flegg Yellow Fire Hydrant Like a trickle running down a yellow fire hydrant in the rain, her boyfriend’s intentions remain indiscernible. Monica Flegg walks dogs of a variety of breeds, reads...
View ArticleAparna Reddi: “Mia + Jay 4ever”
Aparna Reddi Mia + Jay 4ever A wad of gum, once pink and soft, now black and hard, obscures a heart etched into the sidewalk. Aparna Reddi lives in San Francisco and sometimes writes short stories and...
View ArticlePulse
Pulse “Raise your hand if you’re alive.” Reported instruction from police to the mass of fallen bodies after the shooting at Pulse in Orlando. for Stanley Almodovar III Amanda Alvear Oscar A....
View ArticleBrad Rose: “Spring Cleaning”
Brad Rose Spring Cleaning Falling in perfect pinstripes, the gentle May rain launders its own shirt. Brad Rose is the author of the collection of poems and fiction, Pink X-Ray.
View ArticleBrad Rose: “Refraction”
Brad Rose Refraction Does the plummeting pelican dive to where it sees the fish, or to where the fish is? Links to Brad Rose’s fiction and poetry can be found at http://bradrosepoetry.blogspot.com.
View ArticleDamian Balassone: “The Palace”
Damian Balassone The Palace The poem is a palace and each verse is a spiral staircase that leads to a dim lit dungeon where the prisoner resides. Damian Balassone is an Australian poet.
View ArticleTodd Mercer: “Great View, Poor Accommodations”
Todd Mercer Great View, Poor Accommodations Jesus couldn’t really see Peter’s house from there, but that’s the cool cat the apostles loved, the mensch making jokes for them even as he slipped away....
View ArticleTodd Mercer: “Is This Thing On?”
Todd Mercer Is This Thing On? The same way my parents assumed I never listened before I became just like them, I’ll assume you hear me clearer than you seem to, my impassable, beloved child. Todd...
View ArticleJames Hamby: “Sunbeams at Dusk”
James Hamby Sunbeams at Dusk In the living room where my mother kept her porcelain cats and angels, motes danced in slanted sunbeams as dusk gave way to shadow. James Hamby works in the Writing Center...
View ArticleJames Mc Elroy: “Cuckoo”
James Mc Elroy Cuckoo Different from your winter quarters in Africa you come, because I’ve seen you, and cruise like an accipiter in heat along the near side of Divis Mountain before it becomes one...
View ArticleDavid Anthony Martin Harrow
David Anthony Martin Harrow Somewhere in the dead of night the loom of an elephant in a room keeps a man in the dark awake. David Anthony Martin forages wild mushrooms in season, collects feathers when...
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