by Matt Stefon for Minori and for I-495, which always gets us home If you lay your heart bare earlier than the trees in mid-October, you should prepare for cold. They’re still wearing orange, red, and yellow school sweatshirts over their trunks for some time after graduation, and will do…
by Libby O’Connor Dear Mr. Frost, I do not think this path is wide enough for the two of us. There is a road you’ve traveled, that I’d like to tread; But, Mr. Poe, my rapid heartbeat is driving me mad with its unrelenting T H U M P I…
by Isabel Brome Gaddis I haven’t lived in this little room for long but it’s already filled with my stuff the way an hourglass fills with sand. I wonder which things will still be with me when I die, and who will be left to decide what is a keepsake…
by Mitch Green Single, unattended – a body performs play. Inanimate, transient – lukewarm energy. Created, she’s careless – a vicarious peripheral. Tasteless, invasive – illusive principal. Serial, worshipped – doomsday Dillinger. Atmospheric, apparition – amble listener. Arsonist, artist – provocative division. Dainty, dependent – terrestrial human. Soiled, disheveled –…
by Libby O’Connor I raised my sword -a simple quill!- and poked each finger until the ink did spill upon the page, I swirled the ink and bent them to my will, and from the words upon the page, my inky callus did swell.
by Michael McLean Bullets buzzed through the air like angry hornets. Those that didn’t hit dirt ricocheted randomly from rock outcrops. Mark Grayson hunkered down behind a meager outcrop as the unmistakable barks of a dozen or more Kalashnikov AK-47 rifles were answered sporadically by bursts from his outnumbered escort’s…
by Mitch Green She’s a bed banger bent bad. A naughty navigation mapped out in a maze, made to blackout the shapes in our minds. she’s a complex, gravitational God magnet disarming the dark of air. A Dyson sphere soaking up our sections less scattered, for our salvations most shattered….
by Libby O’Connor I step out in the pristine snow and think, ‘a blank, white page,’ my footprints trail behind me as I travel onward, they punctuate my blank, white page -with essence of me.
by Nitin Dangwal You came to know that a guy in your college loved you. You came to know this when you bumped into an old friend from college, and he casually mentions this. You are bemused because you always thought of him as a friend. You smile, and express…
by Jesse Bier To: Chairmen, Democratic and Republican National Committees To Whom It May Concern: This is to inform you that I am not running for President of the United States in the next election. Very truly yours, Jesse Bier P. S. I am available, but I am not running,…