By William Worsham “When trying to write good fiction, we should always ask ourselves, ’What would Lorrie do?’”—William Worsham “If I put in a quotation from myself about my own work, does that make me self-absorbed?”—William Worsham “Humor is really part of the fabric of human discourse—it may be deflective…
By Angel Dionne It was a Sunday afternoon. You could taste Sunday in the air, that soupy thickness that looms over you the entire day, sapping all of your energy. I slept until noon and would have slept longer if it hadn’t been for the steady stream of light piercing…
By Shandrease Cushionberry Emerging from the pond Fully bloomed in the rays Lotus flower bomb In the grass we lay Protect me with white heather In these summer days For autumn will arise Dormant begonia haze Stagnant brumal solitude Bring pink carnation craze And with spring in full bloom Withered…
By Dora Simpson Sunlight streaks awning tops spilling ink sketches down Rue Cler as delivery trucks wrangle narrow cobble and brick, side-by-side they purr. Yesterday’s swine hangs upside-down from meat hooks, stripped of its hide; sides of beef with s-shaped, naked spines drape over white, market smocks as men shoulder…