by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Parker Fendler After spending an hour at the computer, Eddie saw only his reflection on the screen. He slumped in his chair. Screw this. It was early enough in the semester that he could drop the class and register for a different one. Who needed creative writing anyway? He…
by Parker Fendler They lay intertwined in the crib, Spencer gnawing on his Binky and Fred flicking his tongue. I’ve no idea how the seven-footer got out again, but ain’t this the cutest thing? I’d snap a shot for Roy, but he’d throw another hissy-fit. A dozen times he’s said…