Featured Writing

Father watching over his daughter

Daddy’s Girl

by: Kathleen Zamboni McCormick I recall being a relatively happy child of the sixties, until we discovered I was “exceptional.” Testing occurred in third grade, and they said they’d never seen scores like mine. My parents were contacted and told I was outstanding, possibly a genius. Apparently, Father’s first reaction…

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Featured Posts

Father watching over his daughter

Daddy’s Girl

by: Kathleen Zamboni McCormick I recall being a relatively happy child of the sixties, until we discovered I was “exceptional.” Testing occurred in third grade, and they said they’d never seen scores like mine. My parents were contacted and told I was outstanding, possibly a genius. Apparently, Father’s first reaction…

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Street light in the snow storm

Risk Taker

by: Elizabeth Primamore Chalks pulled the ‘72 Corolla into the faculty parking lot. Keys in his pocket, he hurried across the lot, waved to the patrol guard, walked up a few stairs, and went through the double brown doors of Harding in Kearny. He shook in his coat a little….

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Mug of hot chocolate

Becoming Luminous

by: Janet Yoder You were named Molly when I met you. We loved the same man back then—Joe. I met Joe first when I entered college in 1969 at nearly 18. Joe and I were not lovers then. We were depressed together during that rainy winter in Tacoma, when the…

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The black water

Lucky Black Boy

by: PT Russell Shrieking wails, carried by the churning wind above, deafens me as the darkness steals my sight. The ocean water is warm and murky. Its salty froth burns my nostrils and stings my eyes. I am surrounded by haunting voices inside and outside of my throbbing head. It’s…

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Elle in the Realm of Echoes

The Realm of Echoes

by Isaiah Robinson Moonlight settled his features; its soft silvery light feigned the youth he once had. Resting on a straw-stuffed mattress, Faiben stretched out his hands before him. In the moonlight they bore no scars, no calluses, no crooked fingers. They were the hands of a simple man, a…

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A spider web with rain drops.

Saint Francis

by Brian Reickert On an August afternoon, on the fringe of a riotous wildflower garden, I crouched to observe the mortal struggle of a tiny green spider and a yellow/black hornet on the chest of Saint Francis draped in plaster robes, arms outstretched as if to embrace the world in…

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Red, purple and black abstract art

Permanent Ink (Ars Poetica)

by Kerri Vasilakos Words turn diamonds in these volcanic bones. I wait for the eruption. My throat has been hollow for so long, that my blood began carving letters in my veins, bruising voice into my flesh. My body rebelled against my fear, took matters into its own hands, seduced…

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An ocean wave crashing at sunset.

The Goddess of the Sea

by Kerri Vasilakos I felt the oceans rhythms and listened to the waves crash against the shore like a heartbeat, you didn’t know my body was part of the sand. I would hear your footsteps approaching and pray that you’d walk all over me. I was there for all your…

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A dark hospital hallway with a door propped open.

Absence

by Brian Reickert When I was thirty-one I learned the difference between casket dead and hospital dead. There was no composure, only a profusion of absence and that which accompanies it. My father’s eyes were wide and yellow, his face whiskered and sallow, lips cracked, swollen tongue, mouth agape. The…

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A woman walking alone on a foggy night.

Thereby

by Kristal Peace What is the length ofHeartbreak? The colour ofDespair? I will tell you:The length of heartbreak is The story of the dayYou left me. The colour ofDespair is the pool of tearsDancing in my bewildered hands. And The sound of guilt,Does anyone knowHow decisive and sureThe sound of…

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