Two Poems By Micki Blenkush Underground after chromogenic print # 6411 by Naoya Hatakeyama It’s hard to tell where else to look when the light, specifically placed, casts pure the concrete wash. What I…
Read MoreThree Poems by Romeo Oriogun * Exile There’s a place I was given,A horse with its broken legs.Lord, I tend to this brief thing called life like a manCaring for a beast that eats what it loves.I can’t help this loneliness of people walking away from my eyes,It is how…
Read MoreAn Afternoon Is a Test of Faith and I am Gone Again (After the X-Files) By E. Kristin Anderson I confess this sin: I have accepted the beast in me. And I want it to rain. Hard. Like you, Dana Scully,…
Read MoreTwo Poems by A.M. Brant Mermaid Glisten, water glow, on tail of scales of gold. Siren song rising over the mountaintop town. Candle woman sun up. She is calling to you. Can you hear her song? She is dancing on the Ohio, her arms open, her breasts open, eyes open,…
Read MoreHappiness in the Face of Bipolar Disorder by Sean L Corbin And you worry that this warmth you feel on your shoulders this undeniable fullness in the crook of your arm this dusted-off upward bend at the corner of your mouth you worry that…
Read MoreDarker Truths: An Interview with Denise Duhamel by Andrew Wittstadt Last winter I was able to interview Denise Duhamel, who has three poems in our new print issue, to talk about all things poetry. It was a real treat to be able to ask these questions and hear the responses…
Read MoreHappy Anniversary, Darling by Mary Hanrahan In the beginning there was flight, A clear blue owning the horizon. And within, _____a V of geese, an arrow determined to head in the same direction. * 10,950 mornings later, in our rounded bodies, in the same sorry chairs, we settle. * You…
Read MoreTwo Poems By David Kirby The Demimonde I’m not so much walking as tilting a little to the left and fallingforward and then tilting to the right by way of compensation …
Read MoreFlash Nonfiction and Poetry By Mary Ardery Trying to Make the 2.5-Hour Drive to the Trailhead Before Rain I drive a group of women into the wet woods of the Pisgah Forest to dry out from booze, pills, and syringes. On the 20-mile stretch before we reach the interstate,…
Read MoreTwo Poems by James Penha Uncle Ray’s Mirror When, every Sunday, we arrived at The Houseafter the 12:15 mass for dinner with my grand- parents and my mother’s youngest sister who lived there along with the eldest, Jo, the father’s favorite whose glass eye trembled in lieu of the real…
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