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 Linda Cue There are no azalea bushes or cool breezes moving beneath the warmth of the sun. My windows are opened and my door is unlocked. Does anyone know? It’s summer all year long now, and the sun burns even while sitting beneath trees. Is it too late? Even,…
by Bethany Veith We fought against the cold sweat dripping in August as we split hardwood and stacked it just so upon wispy grass and purple asters. The summers vanished like a dream. Wood smoke settled into the valley stippled with red and orange maples silhouetted against the frosted White…
by Tim Blaine It was mid-morning when Vlad D’Agostino leaned over the railing along the quarterdeck of the Magnificent. He watched as the rest of the crew made their way down the pier and into the city. The sun had yet to burn through a dense fog that lingered, siphoning…
by Don Mager With its departing mists, amber dusk wanders across the dinner hour’s shower, the way aromas drift their savory steam in a warm kitchen: turmeric stew and saffron rice and backing gourd-shaped halves of butternuts. The kinesthetic air pulses with color’s body. It throbs in moisture’s glow. Buried…
By Moira Crooks Come sit beside me on the deck The wood is fragrant and hot, the air Silent and holding its breath. Birds are hushed in the spindly trees and even the river is sullenly asleep. Violet orbs of sweetness await their fate, A few sacrificed to taste, you…