by Richard Jacobs They were approaching the bend in the creek that afforded the prettiest view. He would stop her there, draw her away from the sunlit path—it was the first day without rain in a week—and they would have their talk, long delayed. His heart jangled at the prospect…
by James Croal Jackson My excuse for a poor score:the frisbee has teeth. And a mind.It chose to rebel inside the wind– I agree, of course, when you sayour food delivery job is temporary.We have hours before we need to clock in– an ordinary morningstraddling the Olentangy river.Any way to…
by Paul Hundt I often walk through Manhattan’s Central Park, usually from East 96th Street to my club at 59th and 7th. It’s about two miles in all and, about half way, I sometimes pass a solitary boulder just south of the Rumsey Playfield between the Mall and The East…
by Daria Smith Giraud You See, this trauma is branded, #BlackLivesMatter— co-opted, a corporation with corporate donations. Ablack girl like me, will never spend or touch.You do, however see and feel its binding residue its Black Magic Matter surging the well of tears frommy mothers’ mothers’ mothers’ injustice. Blood-borne lipsof little white…
By Jane Finlayson “Arils.” “Arils?” Deb stopped digging the flesh from the out-of-season pomegranate imported from god-knows-where and held up sticky hands in surrender. The juice dripped and wound around her wrists like a henna tattoo. She squinted up at Doug sitting on the porch. “That’s what they’re called.” He…
By Jamie Dill “Will that be all?” says a voice that hasn’t decided if smoking two packs a day are doing it any harm. Is it a man or a woman? I can’t decide, then conclude that it could be either. In this moment, the voice is everyone and everything,…
By Scott Christopher Beebee how does one know theirheightened sexual proclivitiesin kindergarten?it is what happened tome but good luck gettinga straight answerfrom this bent,detoured, rattled& deveined source not only had i knownof my homosexualitybut the more importantpiece is my beinga transgender person before you go offthe rails by sayingthere’s no…
By Marnie Lyn Adams The odor—the putrid stink of human feces—woke him. Ethan Jacobson’s long frame covered the narrow bed. The room was spartan, monk-like, devoid of teenage trappings. Besides the bed, the room contained an end table, a small desk and chair, and a dresser, all stripped of any…
By Amy Covel I was moreconfidentwhenI knewnothingat all. NowI knoweverything,and IwishI didn’t.
By Alfredo Salvatore Arcilesi Millie mooed. Cate mooed with her. The cow stared at them. Millie giggled at the old joke, a pure, authentic song. Cate giggled with her, exaggerated, trembling notes. The cow stared at them. Millie continued to pet the cow’s cheek. Cate stroked the other, looking for…