by Ron Dowell after “(Don’t Worry) If There’s a Hell Below, We’re All Going to Go.” Curtis Mayfield Mayfield lit the torch in black dark, said Keep on Pushing when kept apart from parks, restaurants, movies. My face turned black-hot when called a nigger. So, I love music that interrogates ears, tastes like conflict, has disorder’s stench, a…
by David Vonderheide I remember to the minute the last time I saw snow. My family and I were on a snowspotting trip to New Hampshire, crowded out on the balcony of our Airbnb in the wee hours of the night. A spattering of flakes, embattled with a wispy updraft,…
by Amy Brian Having faith in my socksI leave my shoes scattered somewherein the home’s warm core—underthe tangled feet of the dining room chair, maybe? And step out into the breath of a January eveningto gather in the split timbercontentedly piled by foreseeing stiff and chilled fingersto adorn our front…
by Gina Scott The line, four deep, seems daunting this late in the afternoon. Jenny asks herself if she really has the time to wait, and more importantly, if it’s worth the wait to buy the birthday card she has taken too much time to choose. What she wants and…
by Amy Covel He lost ten poundsand has slowly foundwhere he left them. He left one in his bedduring those sleepless nights,wondering what was wrongand what was right. One he found in the bathroom,carved into the floorfrom all the morningshis feet stood thereas he battled upset stomach. Two more he…
by Wood Reede I am gone—not gone in the sense that I’ve disappeared—but gone just the same. I ride a wave of euphoria that promises to transport me someplace other than here, anyplace but here. I close my eyes, lean back, and fly through space. Stars explode and planets spin….
by Eleanore Lee Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine It flows, pours pastLike our loves?The waves are surging up Baker Beach shore(Fukushima-flavored waves, my love?)Yes, crouch on the wet sand and breathe in that cold roar! Did you remember yourBathing suit? Sandals? Me?Faut-il qu’il m’en souvienne…?Everything? Must I? Hand…
by Eric Sentell (This story contains violence.) Ryan parked his dead mother’s Corolla in an abandoned lot across the highway from Patty Johnson’s trailer park, stuffed a pair of brown jersey gloves in his back pockets, and looked around for people and cars. Seeing no one, he walked under the…
by Ray Corvi It begins with a lapsus I climb out of the windowinto the boughs of trees become a bird& fly away and find myselfgrafted to the day * the window: open it–– I shall leap and soar I can whistle any tune the songs they o-pen as windows or…
by Susan Spadafora My mother’s sister and family came to visit. Since my cousin Marie was only a year older than me, she was invited to stay a bit longer so we could play together. There was a family get-together planned for the next Sunday, with relatives from my father’s…