Chris A. Smith Southern Cross I’ve seen the Southern Cross, blue-white under the heavens, impossibly bright, visible even to my untrained eyes, and California stars aren’t so different, just a reshuffling of dark and light, spilled across the sky, like glitter on a wide black canvas. Chris A. Smith is a writer and journalist in […]
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Monopoly My cousins built green houses, red hotels, I bought a railroad or two, and then my aunt came in with cookies, but they were burnt, so we crumbled them in our fingers, dropped an offering to the scattering birds. Steve Klepetar has never completed a game of Monopoly.
Read MoreFiona Tinwei Lam A Brief Ode to Brief Poems Little splash licks the rocks, carries the moon. Canadian poet Fiona Tinwei Lam has authored three poetry collections and a children’s book and teaches at Simon Fraser University Continuing Studies. fionalam.net
Read MoreFrom the Editors A Break We will be taking a break and will have a new poem up on March 1. The Editors thank you!
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche On the Wall of the Hospital Room On the wall of my hospital room, above the mirror above the sink, there is a wooden crucifix with the figure of Christ in pewter, arms stretched outward and upward and forward slightly in benediction or as though ready to execute a swan dive, preparing himself […]
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche My Shadow After all these many years of following me around and leading me by the nose and for just a minute without movement disappearing under my skin, today my shadow finally introduced himself to me, but under threat of death, I cannot speak his name. J.R. Solonche is the author of 23 […]
Read MoreFrederick Charles Melancon Apartment’s Sonata The voice next door belongs to a former music student, current banker, whose words ring staccato in the morning: legato at night. Frederick Charles Melancon lives in Mississippi with his wife and daughter.
Read MoreJon Densford A Poem As a Precipice The point is not to understand, but merely to appreciate this one last idea … that our minds whirl around a veined outcrop which is both the stone altar of time and the ledge of our letting go. Jon Densford agrees with Jeff Tweedy of Wilco when Jeff […]
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