by Emily Fridley There’s a proverb of sorts that I’ve read somewhere, akin to “God could not be everywhere, so he created angels instead and called them mothers.” Mine must be one of these. For there are few and far between that can even hope to be compared to her…
by Brianna Kittrell I wake up each morning and somehow remember less, from my father’s favorite song to my mother’s favorite dress. The moments of yesterday just barely linger, I try to grasp the memories, but they evade my desperate fingers. There are small flashbacks from happenings long ago, but…
by Donald Griffin I can see them, the dancers, over there in the distance. Men and women whirl around the fire their silhouettes mimicking every movement upon the lighted canyon wall behind them. Drum beats reverberate through the cool crisp night air, like a thousand hearts beating and pumping life…
by Gonzalinho da Costa For Father Pat Giordano, SJ The moon abides invisibly in a day painted white. At my shoulder a dark green shadow is floating, the sea. Breakers rush toward shore, roaring lions inside a wind tunnel. Peering within myself, I see bottomless water. Stillness enters the space…
by Gabriella Garofalo Grieve not, sister, for the invisible, The hard-toiling wind, the grass hikers trample, Death’s ashen brother, the sleep, Don’t fall prey of tangled thoughts, You know she has an attitude And gives it the large, you know her – Trust me, soon the mist will rise From…
by Ryan D. Moore People tell me I have a God complex. It’s not complex. I am God. I, in this form, was born in 1982. However, I have always existed, in one form or another. For awhile I was Haley’s Comet. Zooming across the solar system, a non stop…
by William Thompson He got into the house on a Tuesday. Tuesday was trash day. I was coming back through the gate after dumping the garbage in a barrel when I saw him. Stupid to leave the door open. And no way to stop him. There he was—on the top…
by Don Mager While cold’s persistence officiates, afternoon’s amnesia sweeps away the dinge of clouds. Sundown plays suites of madrigals on pianissimo recorders. Counterpoints weave off-beats at low registers. Modulations melt. Descant sherbets—treble creams—drops of lemon tenors—contra basses in their azure barkings—and dancing at the upper edges, small piquant sopranino…
by Renata De la Cruz Monteón Night starts; leaves, branches dancing with the wild wind while crickets sing love songs.
by Stephanie K. Cohen The Atlantic magazine, September 2016, describes the forthcoming head transplant operation which will take place shortly. The only problem I have is choices. So many, and so little time to decide. I thought about getting a placeholder, so to speak. Any healthy body in exchange for…