Red Tide

Red Tide

Robby Johnson sits at the bar drumming his fingers on a bottle of Bud. He’s been sitting in that same spot, two stools from the door, for the past two weeks. Since his dad and brother died. The only other person at the bar this early is Jimmy. read more
GMR

Recent Posts

Sestina

I climbed another mountain and spat on a boulder / because climbing a mountain means nothing. To fish / from the middle of the stream, fresh catch flailing / breathlessly on the shore, gasping frivolous moonlight, / their widened eyes confused: that is my percussion of temptation, the drum I’d rather follow through the rain read more

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Green Mountains Review, based at Johnson State College in Vermont, is a biannual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

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Tumbling Upwards

Tumbling Upwards

This conference room could be in any country, any town: a pale wooden podium, bright overhead lighting, an army of white-clothed tables and a carpet with loud corporate swirls. The difference is with the babies. read more
3 Poems

3 Poems

I Have Been a Liar I have lied, a cowardly man, a lover of your kind; merely in mind; movie-making, I have spent my seasons coming, counting time by tissue: quivering cock, finger-clenched, crazed. read more
Infamous

Infamous

breaks the pattern of pre- fixes and suffixes not taking the stress:   which makes me think: muh-fuhs as in what you muh-fuhs lookin at?   which could have been an infamous last question, given that those muh-fuhs stared at me all the hard-rockier   and...

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