by Carol Casey The August sun has almost spun the straw to gold in the large stack behind the barn. We take turns sliding down its side, whooping in the earthy smell, the scratchy stalks tickling. Not sure why I go down backward, push off so hard. I land with a thump on almost…
by Shane David Morin Inspired by “Arcs of Command” by Caspian Time ticks on, unceasingly, as if abandoning me Within deep chasms of a disillusioned and cracked psyche Awaiting, unhesitatingly, for the next opportunity to chime Bringing back to mind that this life is no longer truly mine Metronomically my heart…