Poetry
Thomas Boling
“Atlas Shrugged,” “Minotaur,” and “Ark”
Atlas shrugged, farted, coughed
Scratched his crotch and squatted.
The ball rolled off his shoulders;
That was a relief. Comparatively speaking
He has no beef with living. Unlike
That guy Prometheus, his liver is intact
Scratched his crotch and squatted.
The ball rolled off his shoulders;
That was a relief. Comparatively speaking
He has no beef with living. Unlike
That guy Prometheus, his liver is intact
Ailish NicPhaidin
“Three Generations of Imbeciles Are Enough,” “Sneer–Part 1,” and “Stay Through the Summer”
A polymath-in-waiting; Sir Francis Galton,
Proffered the ungainly theory of Eugenics.
That was 1883 in his now infamous book,
“Inquiries into Human Fertility and it’s Development”.
Proffered the ungainly theory of Eugenics.
That was 1883 in his now infamous book,
“Inquiries into Human Fertility and it’s Development”.
Michael McQuillan
Kites
Grieving Gaza fathers fling kids’
paper kites on fires as Israel’s armed
force shoots down what stray winds
blow past yellow lines
Salty tears drown fleeting joy for
distraught tented children.
paper kites on fires as Israel’s armed
force shoots down what stray winds
blow past yellow lines
Salty tears drown fleeting joy for
distraught tented children.
Patricia Hemminger
“Vega,” “Thinking About Symbiosis While Looking at a Spider’s Web,” “Glam Rats”
Listening to the falling rain, the space
between its drops, like the pause
between thoughts silence. I watch
a pair of goldfinch hover
over the Russian Sage like the twin stars
between its drops, like the pause
between thoughts silence. I watch
a pair of goldfinch hover
over the Russian Sage like the twin stars
Ray Malone
“Ritournelle 6,” ” Ritournelle 7,” and “Ritournelle 8”
drops fell, as hand let go of hand, light rain
to begin, then the long hours pouring down, drenched,
to the skin it’s said, far from your bed, from hers,
the wet ground between them growing the distance,
creeping up through your shoes…
to begin, then the long hours pouring down, drenched,
to the skin it’s said, far from your bed, from hers,
the wet ground between them growing the distance,
creeping up through your shoes…
Beth Cash
“The World Hasn’t Told Him He Can’t,” “Lord and Lady of he Manor,” and “No One Has Made Me Feel So Pretty”
Naked, just out of the bathtub,
Little Owen jumps on his new trampoline.
He flaps his arms furiously,
faster and faster.
Little Owen jumps on his new trampoline.
He flaps his arms furiously,
faster and faster.
Short Story
Elizabeth Creel
Precious
When I walked into my grandmother’s room at the retirement community, she asked, “Did it survive?”
It was the first time I’d heard her speak in person since I’d been in Indonesia for six months. She had recently been transferred to the memory care unit.
It was the first time I’d heard her speak in person since I’d been in Indonesia for six months. She had recently been transferred to the memory care unit.
Mark Knego
The Burden of a Wolf-Like Existence
The wait staff must think we are quite the pair when we come into their restaurant. Seska is resplendent as always, in a green jacket, black T-shirt, purple leggings, shades, long, unruly, dirty blonde hair, excessive jewelry, and her generally disheveled sense of fashion. And I, of course, am me. I have hair shooting out from everywhere.
Maria Angeline Pennacchi
Divine Timing
The late summer breeze felt brisk with hints of autumn. Blowing across the water, it gently tossed her ponytail back and forth behind her. The sun was a deep orange glow, illuminating her chestnut hair with copper highlights as it reflected on the river like fire on water.
Josh Greenfield
Brilliant Move
Sometimes the big decisions aren’t made: they just happen.
My days at Alaska Ocean Products, the salmon cold storage plant that employed me, were numbered. Fish and Game had a date marked on their calendar to indicate the end of the season, and even before that date arrived, I would be up and on my way. Exactly in which direction, I had not completely decided.
Katherine Orfinger
They
From above, the college was a series of rectangles. Cinderblock buildings painted industrial grey, a color somehow even more drab and unwelcoming than the standard cinderblock shade. The poorly maintained quad at the heart of campus was almost always empty aside from the occasional student trying to read on a blanket stretched out on the patchy grass.
Joe Cappello
Putting Down Roots in Waldo
Bruno tried to shake off the dust from his black velvet slippers and beige silk pajama legs as he walked along the dirt road. But it was no use. The dirty grains stubbornly clung to his clothes no matter how hard he tried to shake them loose. He stopped and looked around at the unknown landscape, feeling like a prisoner who managed to escape, but from where and from whom he hadn’t a clue.
Vincent Casaregola
The Last Days of Atlantis
Michael was trying to remember just when they’d started calling it “Atlantis.” He knew it had been much later than the first Central District Project, the one that included the combination office-condominium tower complex. Back then, they still radiated enthusiasm for a big project, and after that one had failed, they were too hurt and angry for that kind of ironic wordplay. Yes, it had been well after CDP, but when?
Creative Nonfiction
Emily Bilman
9/11
During the interval of Augusto de Campos’ plurivocal poetry reading accompanied by his son, Cid on the guitar, a person from the audience turned on the short-wave radio to hear the news. I could hardly believe that while the living spaces of Sao Paulo, the most populous and popular of Brazilian cities, was being projected on a white screen, the twin-towers of New York’s Trade Centers had been bombed earlier by hijacked terrorist planes.
L.A. Gabay
The Poetry of Rock
The only things in my bookbag were a small pack of Kleenex, five sticks of Big Red gum, and a copy of No One Here Gets Out Alive, the Jim Morrison biography by Jerry Hopkins and Danny Sugerman. It was April 1982, and I was nearing the end of Ms. Margo’s 7th grade English class at Great Neck North Middle School.
Isaac Amend
Welcome to Planet Earth
Welcome to Planet Earth, where people lie to gain favors and cheat to win romance. Hookers get trampled on at the crack of sunset by men fiending for the unholy. Priests touch young children and fathers hit their wives. Trans women are murdered in Brazil and Morocco and in the banlieus of Paris. Gay men are called faggots over high school loudspeakers.
Shelli Rottschafer
Two Species
Today we have left one home for another. Taos is our heart-home, and Colorado’s Front Range is the other. Driving north on NM 522 which crosses the state border at Costilla and turns into CO 159 is our long goodbye. We have left midmorning, packed the Subaru, settled ice into the cooler, and loaded our dog through the hatchback to harrumph into his blanketed nest.