By Carolyn Wright Enshrouded by the black chasm of night, my spirit awaits. The crackling of the grandfather fire and its wood smoke, intoxicate and call me to a time I no longer know. The scent of pine mixed with cedar surrounds my body as it wafts up on its…
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…
By Steve Prakope Robert held the trembling puppy in the palm of his hand. The puppy, no longer than his width of his hand, twitched with uncontrollable spasms, its head stuck to the side of its body as if looking behind for danger. Robert saw the second puppy in the…
By Alex Scarelli Thunder sounded as Claire stood from her garden and wiped the dirt off her bare knees. She took off her gloves and wiped her dewy forehead with her forearm. Her shoulders, exposed in one of her ratty tank-tops she used for her daily chores, felt tight and…
Motherhood is A Bright Torture By Stephanie Bryant Anderson I have stood at the gates in Leningrad for 17 months with all of Russia’s mothers. We have begged from ground built by bones of the dead. Lev, I was not meant to be your mother, though I have loved you…
By Tina Rego I hear your voice without a pain in my chest my ears are over you I see your face without hurting inside my eyes are over you I smell your cologne without remembering you my nose is over you I remember your touch without dying inside my…
By Paulette Zander The 57 books I’ve read about the art and craft of writing boil down to three rules. Rule #1: Never pay someone to read your writing. Rule #2: Listen to your muse. Rule #3: Do not let friends and family read your work. I have broken all…
By Gerald Solomon Rackety Amsterdam, a market stall, old disused books, two guys at chess. Heedless of rain and passers by, making and working their puzzle. Leaning head to head, nothing said. Rain shower, green awnings, wet canvas! Every raindrop a bright sky loosening from rims, becoming nothing. Two men,…
By JB Mulligan Each day takes off, the next day lands – like small slaps to the head. Crouched, furry creatures stunned by the headlights. “Of course they’ll stop. If they don’t, they’ll hit me.” No deed of a boulder to hoist up the hill: bend and pick up a…
By Dawnell Harrison Her maiden mouth Grieved like the red Petals of a rose – Velvety and tender In her bowl Full of wounds.