by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
By Amanda Paulger She said to me once, This earth is one Great big stone Which grew life One great big stone With a heart Beating, awake. We should thank it for being alive. My grandmother preached At her kitchen table Or over the stove while She cooked breakfast, “Vote,…
By Amanda Paulger The lights lit up the sky, some vast darkness carrying the sounds of stars over the ocean like the ghostly antithetical cries of sirens, lost in the crash of waves. On the backs of those wanderers that climbed up the vast cliffs that rose up over the…