by Marc Livanos Everybody knows everyone. When you do something, the telephone lines light up like a Friday night football field. It is early spring, so most trains just pass this town on their way to Chicago. Old men sit on benches catching-up on bushels of corn, sorghum and winter…
by Andrea Rathbun I check the rearview mirror just as her chin hits her chest and at last comes to rest. I sigh, louder than necessary, letting out a breath that I’ve held for the last four months. I glance at the other side of the back seat and see…
by Juanita Jones Hey kid Why don’t you slide on over Sit on down And tell me a story Your road’s been long With fear and hate On the grounds of a school War waged Without any end Except maybe yours Hey kid Why don’t you slide on over Sit…