Featured Writing

Cell phone on an unmade bed

An unsent drunk text during no contact

by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…

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Posts Tagged life

Time

by Shannon Still In such a short time, within a blink of an eye, our life can be over and then with a sigh… We look back on the story we so hastily wrote, and ask where the time went ever so remote.  

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Age for Sale

by Orlando A. Rebolledo I boarded the Ferris Wheel alone. My booth was clear glass all over. The door was more a hatch than a door. It closed, I sat, and the wheel went on. Tall buildings cowered into stumps, roads and highways sunk like trenches in the distance, and…

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My Secret Life as a Hoarder

by Marc Mayer Okay, I admit it…I’m a hoarder. No, I don’t mean one of those nutjobs you see on the TV news being led out of their hopelessly cluttered—with boxes of shit from the 1950s—home along with their thirty-two cats and eighteen dogs. I’m just your average “I never…

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A Cell

by Lisa Harris A cell interconnects. Sand dollars, starfish and sea urchins, tube footed burrowers—cousins all— traveling slowly, blurred and muted. Echinodermata, Echinozoa, Echinoidea— anciently called sea hedgehogs. These spiny round algae eaters try to avoid sea otters, starfish, wolf eels, and triggerfish, predators all. .                       In 1891, Hans Driesch experimented…

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Ghost

by Amy Covel We’re pale white Tonight Like ghosts Haunting the graves Of the places We’ve stayed Forced to conform To the order To which we were born You and I are bound Forever Two ghosts together Our untimely deaths Stole away our breaths But didn’t deliver us From the…

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World

by Lisa Harris Perhaps you see a globe: You think, a world is round; a world spins. Continents are misshapen feet, and all around them lies blue water, the color of a Scandinavian’s eyes. Perhaps you see a million faces, a blur of non-photogenic humanity, a smear of intention, like…

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Patches

by Chris Boucher My pet beagle is expanding my world. One day she sniffs out rabbit pellets behind the house. Another day it’s a freshly-dug hole under the shed – my neighbor says a hedgehog did it. On yet another, she returns proudly with a deer antler in her mouth….

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Grief Over Tea: A Letter to Dad

by Mindy Farmer Dear Dad, Grief came to me this morning. Not like it was yesterday. Not like 14 numbed by my reality – An unimaginable future without you. No, grief knocked softly, gracefully sitting beside me; Contemplation in a cup of tea. I wish I could offer her a…

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Red, She Goes

by Emily Graham Nestled in the countryside of a sleepy, north-eastern town, Sat a simple- little house on a hill. The long, stone driveway was framed by uncut grass and pine trees. Rundown buildings dotted the empty field. The sun had begun his weary decent to the horizon When the…

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My Friends

by Crystal Wesley I feel swindled. Bamboozled. My millennial past has lied. Long lived a hatred inside my “friends” That I thought with ancestry had died. I knew racial issues still exist, But they were few and far between. Yet with the emergence of one figure, New faces on old…

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