by Gil Hoy On those windswept weekday mornings, asphalt driveway crusted with snow, my father would get up early, put on his secondhand boots and an old coat, and exit through our front door into the blue hour to get the motor running. That fifteen-year-old station wagon would stall if…
by Casey Dare the smooth bore, breech-loaded, single barrel shotgun bangs an answer to the whispered questions— why do they fight? why does mama cry? is he still hitting her? Why won’t someone help us? cold December night lit by lights on the evergreen trees, blues reds whites blinking…
by Casey Dare For Ensign Paul H. Backus, USS Oklahoma He whispered softly for the 2403 Why them and not me? Generations later a monument would proclaim Those words etched in granite from this day. Flags fly over green fields next to hotdog stands and turn-styles Marking time, click clack…
by Casey Dare I see you across the street, waving; So I try; The cars zoom past and the trucks roar by, But I try. I reach the middle, not sure if I should continue; I look to you for guidance and see you waving, So I try. The cars…