by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
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 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,…