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…

read more...

Poetry Posts

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…

read more...

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…

read more...

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…

read more...

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…

read more...

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…

read more...

A close-up of a colorful pigeon.

Do Not Feed the Pigeons

by Gwenn A. Nusbaum Bobbing, in the language of hunger, they hover over what isn’t given.

read more...

A tree in the park.

Disc Golf

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…

read more...

Sun breaking through the dark clouds over a city.

A Letter to George Floyd in the Face of the Black Lives Matter Trauma

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…

read more...

playground

Pink Goes With You & Me

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…

read more...

Everything

By Amy Covel I was moreconfidentwhenI knewnothingat all. NowI knoweverything,and IwishI didn’t.

read more...