by Peter Mladinic My dog’s life with eyes closed seemsmore comfortable than with eyes open,I thought, this summer morning, recallinga fall afternoon I looked into those eyesand saw eternity, and felt eternity’s warmth.What is forever? That momentthat not even memory will bring back.
by David Sapp Jim and I certainly weren’t colleagues. He finished a pharmacy degree, and I was an art school dropout – and couldn’t afford Kenyon. I drove a twenty-year-old Ford. He had a flashy new sportscar. He counted pills. I stocked shelves. He said, “That’s a pretty big word…
by Phibby Venable blue ridges, path loose with mud,a halo of fog grayingin a new daythe old womanlaid out her firethe night before,in the rusted woodstove,that still spokeout flames each morning,and sang out cold,as she listened, trembling the newspaper toward warmthe old woman, always in smoke and daydreams, worn outand…