Featured Writing

Posts Tagged The Review

Wisdom on the Sidewalk

by Becky Earle I wanted to carry him everywhere, but His words wore a hole in my pocket,And before I knew it, the scrap of A notecard, rumpled and worn from Fondling, fell to the street at the Corner of Clark and Pine. The shadow that saw it fall Tapped…

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Cherry blossoms in front of a building

Transition

by James Croal Jackson I walk this familiar streetof spring. Cherry blossoms, sunshine, the desireto drink. Yesterday I snuck into a fieldwith a flask to avoid the knife room Itell myself to stay out of. My longing a blackrolled-up rug. I tell myself Stay wound, trying howI can before I…

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The Method

by Robert Steward Lisbon, Portugal 2003 “Um bilhete de volta para Cacém, se faz favor,” I said to the man in the railway station ticket office. “Cacém?” he asked, tapping away on his computer. He had a Benfica football badge on the lapel of his blue jacket. “Sim,” I replied. Next…

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Father

By: Kristal Peace More and more Often now, The oak tree in the center of Our yard inexplicably Begins to weep. Every day, for two weeks, Its branches sag, and its leaves cascade To the ground, like the stream Of a waterfall, drenching the entire lawn. But It is Summer,…

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Woman in the Locked Ward

by John P. Kristofco Sometimes she remembers those who come;sometimes she does not,her dreams blur with world she really sees:            “I made doughnuts at the stove last night,            before the men crawled from the pantry with their guns.”She sits inside the complex of a hoarder’s life,storing things forever from the thief who…

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Reading Mary Oliver

by The Poet Darkling I gaze upon the poet;her words – ponderless, profound;deep and dark and blue –and think,what such have I to offerfrom my humble beginningsor my sordid pastto justify the title of poet? To answer the unanswerable? To defend my consumptionof fish, of fowl, of air, of love?…

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Last Supper

by Richard Compean Janice got to the registration desk at the Lakeland Econo Lodge just in time to hear the desk clerk inform the elderly couple in front of her that they had gotten the last available room, not their only disabled access room, but a “studio king” on the…

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Journey’s End

by Kristal Peace My confidant… How did we get here againTo knives thrownHoles madeVows shatteredFeelings swayed. My ally… When did we find our way backTo moments beforeCivilized discourseTo rage and fearAnd throats screamed hoarse. My sympathizer… Why do we prefer the roadAdorned with bramblesThistles and thornsLittered with grudgesAnd studded with…

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Full moon surrounded by clouds.

Before The Blue Moon

by Thomas Griffin The night before the August blue moon     howling with coyotes on Putney Mtn                           warning barks of dogs             alarmed someone entered their tethered territory, wailing                past the yipping coyotes in the Brookline valley below                          eight off-key crooners                                 concatenations of                       lament, ballyhoo, query. Who are you lone brother why…

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A thin layer of snow at sunset.

December

by Thomas Griffin Crinkle-leafed prongs of summerphlox poke out of snow amidstwhiskers of seeds on the noseof ragweed shafts  crab tree with a few dark rubiesyet to dropporcupine of stripped quincehead snowed under  half-the-moon crown tiltstoward black woods rosy waves of clouds backthe fading sun falling behind trees—   everything looks…

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