by D.R. James A butterfly’s flapping over Costa Rica,it’s sometimes considered, could initiatethe chain that leads to tornados in Toledo,hopping and ripping the heartfrom every-other quotidian home. Or maybe its deft stretch-and-glidecould instigate the violent Mississippi’ssurprising rise beyond its subtle, stolid realm—the dainty queen behind that vast rebellion. So I…
by D.R. James A butterfly’s flapping over Costa Rica,it’s sometimes considered, could initiatethe chain that leads to tornados in Toledo,hopping and ripping the heartfrom every-other quotidian home. Or maybe its deft stretch-and-glidecould instigate the violent Mississippi’ssurprising rise beyond its subtle, stolid realm—the dainty queen behind that vast rebellion. So I…
by Jennifer Harris I exited the vehicle, and strolled across Publix parking lot, as the radio announcer said, “Speaking of a date, it’s May month, and that means two things, Floridians, hot and hotter!” The #21 bus stopped at the shed nearby and two elderly people slowly got off. A…
by Chloe Maron The state of the American publishing industry is one that fosters a brutal type of competition, self-doubt, and loneliness that makes it hard to dream of even the simplest victories. Spots available to hopeful writers remain limited as the industry cannibalizes itself in the name of profit….
by Blake Kilgore I teach my students the SocraticMethod – questions on questions, thepickaxe, the shovel, the digging down, downto the truth. An honorable path, onethat can lead to some light. I also introduce Mithridates, the Pontic Kingwho drank poisons, day after day,against fear of lovers, assassins,anyone who might harm…
by James Croal Jackson we need not gatherrice in the trash stickywith friends’ handsstill friends their handsa question of study whatwe collect with these rakesour long limbs in themuddy puddle of breath
by Rachel Lawrence Godfrey I look at the devastation that is my hotel room floor. I am tired and groggy. The Salat al-fajr dawn muazzin woke me, and I tossed and turned until it was real morning. I am still in-between time zones; not here long enough to be local…
by David Sapp On occasion this distant memory surfaces at curious moments. I’m unsure why. However random and peculiar, I suppose the event, over fifty years ago, had some significance for my young mind. One night when I was six or seven, in my pajamas after my bath but before…
by D.R. James Life has been a grand migrationto where you are today! –well known wisdom I didn’t know! Otherwise,when those raggedy squadronsclamored overhead last evening— three V’s disarrayedlike frayed arrow feathers, their leaders insistent as clownswith braying horns, honkingfor plane geometry— I would have…
by James Croal Jackson The blue plaster walls are crackingwhich we should have been able to see as long asthis house has stood. I catch us looking different directions on the highway, cars zippingthrough; we nearly collide something cosmic. Meaning our souls are ready to ascendfrom our bodies to some…
by Peter Mladinic My dog’s life with eyes closed seemsmore comfortable than with eyes open,I thought, this summer morning, recallinga fall afternoon I looked into those eyesand saw eternity, and felt eternity’s warmth.What is forever? That momentthat not even memory will bring back.