The sonnet is inexhaustible. Magnetic, mesmerizing, bewitching, nearly every poet is drawn to the form at some point in their career, whether they long to write the perfect sonnet, the Shakespearean, Petrarchan or Spenserian, or they desire to break the form, queer it, manipulate it, celebrate its mutability; they want to discover what magic can happen within those fourteen lines.read more
THE EFFECTS OF ALBRECHT DÜRER’S ETCHING ‘JEROME IN THE WILDERNESS’ ON ACUTE RESIDENTIAL, BEHAVIORAL HEALTH EMPLOYMENT
I found an F. I was at my job, with this kid, a boy, when I stepped on it: a cube, bevel-edged small; a bead: F. Like a lion thing, a thorn. Ouch, I coulda said, woulda, but this boy was watching, and I was wearing my sneaker shoes, their like-Faith cushiony soles. And the boy, no saint, like martyring Jerome’s Lion, he stopped walking when I did. He watched me lift my left foot. The cube thorned into my sneaker’s cushiony sole, like Faith. The boy’s mom is dying, so I Lioned for him: Ha.read more
The snow was falling on the beach/
and so the children/
into their hands.
Another boy thinks his father/
dies each time he leaves home.
But I followed instructions! Wring blood from a stone and use the drops as lip gloss./
My new job is branding mascara. This one’s called “The Tracks of My Tears.”
I own a spleen of transcendent variety. It serves as a beacon of bodily function.read more
You are the odd mom out, the one who doesn’t hang with the pack of moms, the one they don’t really get. You are standing at the lip of the swimming lake.read more
How full the walls are, teeming with paintings that he isn’t sure deserve to be called that. How he fed her, all her life.read more
Flash fiction has taken on such prominence in the recent literary landscape that there are categories within this category. One such category is a drabble, which is, in prosaic terms, a story of 100 words.read more
Where the devil is a butcher/
in a white apron/
smeared with red./
Want to Submit Your Work?