Devon Neal Windows Open Lying in bed alone, window open, the outside kids’ voices deflect off brick and vinyl, pavement to sky, expanding in size in the space of the evening, sounding like light searing into orbit, sounding like memory Devon Neal took a 10-year break from writing to raise kids, only to find that […]
Read MoreNatalie Wolf
Devon Neal “Bad News”
Devon Neal Bad News In the waiting room, the A/C roars too high and the fern in the far corner flickers like a green fire. Devon Neal took a 10-year break from writing to raise kids, only to find that he now only has time to write poems one sentence at a time.
Read MoreDevon Neal “Overtime”
Devon Neal Overtime It’s 4th-and-4 and they’re going for it, but what he sees as I bend toward the TV is the dim lamplight melting into buttery air, a kaleidoscope television flashing grassbitten uniforms, the fireplace juggling, pebbles of popcorn next to the half-empty bowl, a cat like a beret on the back of the […]
Read MoreCaleb P. Murdock “Ducking Fate”
Caleb P. Murdock Ducking Fate God was watching me that day I tossed a long fluorescent bulb into a dumpster and it broke on the hard metal edge a mere foot from my face, exploding like an atom bomb of powdered glass and shards, none of which got into my eyes; but the day a […]
Read MoreRussell duPont “Saint Augustine’s”
Russell duPont Saint Augustine’s St. Augustine’s, where my mother took me to Mass each morning, was a tomb, dark and quiet, with a scattering of bodies, rows of drooping heads and bent spines slouched over the backs of pews, lips forming low murmurs, prayers that slowly rose into the empty vault above and dissolved in […]
Read MoreSteve Klepetar “It Doesn’t Matter”
Steve Klepetar It Doesn’t Matter how deep the water, or how cold, or the color of boats sailing behind the orange moon, or the timbre of voices you heard last night in that dream of home, or the many names on that hard, white list of your dead friends, or the delightful tang of apple […]
Read MoreJames Penha “Li Po’s Last Line”
James Penha Li Po’s Last Line Inebriated by the moon, Li Po leaped into its echo. James Penha lives in Indonesia where he edits The New Verse News, an online journal of current-events poetry.
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche “A Pot Without Flowers”
J.R. Solonche A Pot Without Flowers The dirt waits to become soil again, has waited months in the potting shed’s cool dark, and now, in the sun for the first time since November’s failing sun, begins to remember what it’s for, begins to anticipate the spade’s plunge, begins to prepare for the nudging of the […]
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