by Andy Demczuk — Phone calls used to scare me more than falling off a bike or being alone. My biggest fear was hearing a ring and knowing another human was somewhere waiting to speak with me. Whenever a caller gave up, “brilliant!” I’d think and smirk. Proud of my…
by Amy Covel Asleep at night, the darkness comes like a nightmare. I see it all again— chains around my wrists, a faceless phantom holding a bloody knife. Awake, I spring, ready to kill. But I see your face stained with tears. Last time it was stained with blood. What…
by Amy Covel My heart is composed of tiny pieces. Throughout my life, I gave them away, one by one, some to those I wish I could take back who abused and destroyed that part of me. Other parts of me were given in love, never to be given back…
by P. b. Simpson “Yes, Walter, I know the game is going to start at one, but you know how you get when you forget to take your pill.” Margaret Smallwood always had a problem trying to open the pill bottles. She would go as far as stabbing the top…
by Amy Covel My mom always said You love to write But don’t rely On it to live Have a backup plan My dad always said Don’t rely on a man For your living Get a job That sustains you After he’s gone My mom always said Your faith is…
by Scott Christopher BeeBe we divide the kids like cars and now I’m off course hit the deck nothing is left inside my breast wicked like nicked snickering on the playground at my expense – derived by things done & said – nothing’s meant no blushed downlight at sunrise; eventide…
by Chasity Gaines In the wide expanse of the mind, The innermost thoughts of Individuality Internal dialogue of self loathing A constant barrage of human flaws beyond control, a reminder of every wrong move, misstep, blunder Every wrong word, look, and deed. A struggle to balance the conscience and subconscious….
by Eddie Brophy I wasn’t prepared to stayI wasn’t indoctrinated that way,sobriety only begets more painand I don’t know if I’m preparedto enjoy all the splendors of the mundaneand find a career that pays the bills,just so I can afford what truly fulfillsa band-aid placed on my heartby my actual…
by Khristy Knudtson Flying on frontage roads,sipping iced coffee,and carbonated water,thrift-store findsstuffed in the hatchback. Two 30-somethingsignored their latestexistential crisesfor a sunset, a summer high,singing Third Eye Blind and The Cardigans.
by John Bibb Hickman Don couldn’t tell you why he was so devoted to Tripp, his 1951 Morgan 3-Wheeler motorcar. He loved the classic design with its oiled English bridle-leather hood strap and those spoked, widely spaced front wheels. Maybe what appealed to him most was the way it cornered…