by Mike O’Brien Despite the wild wind, I will clingWhen all that’s around meis losing its grip,being torn from its mooringsand carried awayin madness and mayhemto God alone knows Despite the wild wind, I will cling,When no one can hear meover the bluster,the terrible creakingthe clanking and crackingas what was…
by John P. Kristofco Sat there smoking, reading texts,her old black car purring in the chill October air,dark hair swept to shouldersrounded like the hillsidesshaped by years behind that wheel;the wrinkle of her mouth,shadows at the corners of her eyes,skin that caught the yellow morning light,lips too thin, it seemed,…