Argiris Fytakis Sea Slaughter At first she dampens your wounds, then she plasters them with tides, leaving you bleeding saltwater on the shore. Argiris Fytakis holds a MA in Creative Writing and writes prose and poetry for various literary journals.
Read MoreIan Willey Guitar God A long time ago for reasons I no longer remember I got it in my head that every star in the night sky was a note played by Eddie Van Halen throughout his stellar career, and now, as I look up at this patch of dark space my impulse is to […]
Read MoreMarc Alan Di Martino Solstice The year’s breath lines the window its subtle crystal embroidery reaching inward like a hand as days begin the march toward equinox daubing a little color ‒ a little light ‒ painting the world out of darkness, out of fear. Marc Alan Di Martino is author of the poetry collection […]
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche The Nickel The nickel should be two-faced, should not have a tail, should have the real tale, should show the two Jeffersons, should show the Declaration Jefferson, should show the slaver Jefferson, should be two-faced like Jefferson. J.R. Solonche is the author of 23 books of poetry and co-author of another.
Read MoreJon Densford An Ordinary Evening in West Memphis Lucinda, the muse, was half right, singing “maybe” while looking east toward the bridge with its sky reflecting pink then turning west to see the delta’s flat out purple sunset joy. Jon Densford of Memphis, Tennessee crossed high bridges over the Mississippi River more than a hundred […]
Read MoreGeorge Salamon Writing in Winter Snow covers up the letters of the alphabet, preserving for the moment the purity of words and sentiments underneath. George Salamon is trying to maintain his sense of wonder as an octogenarian.
Read MoreMark Jackley Manuals Who knows why I dreamt that I could start my Ford by crawling underneath it and lighting votive candles— it was car repair for poets, staring at the cold baffling machinery in the little darkness, admiring the perfect curve of the crescent wrench, which recalled the dance of starlings spelling something in […]
Read MoreKrishna Lewis Scandia, Minnesota Until that autumn evening when I walked the deer-cleared trails, I did not know my sister was a prairie her flaxen grass swaying to join the wind in mourning the sun. Krishna Lewis lives in the Boston area, close to trails, cafes, and a famous cemetery.
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