by Kelle Groom | Mar 26, 2016
Earth Stars The women strap me down So you won’t fall Watched me climb unaided as if on a leather vault in the center of a gym A needle in my hand swells the women unfold my arms blue Velcro holds them down One woman smiles as she ties a belt around my...
by Patricia Fargnoli | Mar 24, 2016
the combers breaking and breaking on white sand, sand made even whiter by the Guadeloupe moon. how, with nothing to hide them, the stars blanketed the sky. We knelt at tideline while Zugari pointed out the little fishes shoaling beneath the pierlights. Without knowing...
by Karla Van Vliet | Mar 17, 2016
From the branches I catch the flicking of an eastern kingbird, it’s raspy call like lost memory on the damp wind. In this moment all is only the bird and I, my hand and it’s wing, it’s song and the salty taste of my own words held ablaze in my mouth. It is a...
by Mike Young | Mar 2, 2016
HOARSE Singing when you’re not supposed to is only brave into a rifle. Not in a hippie basement with a red toggle for hot water. Maybe if you’re lucky your doctor is impatient and shuffles you sizzurp without double checking stories. Someone said the...
by Nancy Mitchell | Mar 1, 2016
His Mother, Overheard not to mention mother’s mother’s diamond ring mother passed to me when she passed not to mention the expense of fixing up the carriage house behind her folks’ place just for now not to mention she nearly lost her...
by Mary Elder Jacobsen | Feb 25, 2016
As the punctuated surface reflects the world she breathes, her glance flitting from stippled lake to scribbled page, all day the writer inside writes to the same hypnotic air— rainfall’s percussive snare riffing from ridge to eaves, a liquid song rung from metal...
