J.R. Solonche Beached Boat Small as boats go and don’t go, face- down on the ground, chained to a tree, now it floats in place upon the earth along with everything else on earth. Nominated for the National Book Award and twice-nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. J.R. Solonche is the author of 24 books of […]
Read MoreNatalie Wolf
Sara Pirkle “Each Morning that May,”
Sara Pirkle Each Morning that May, I sipped coffee on the cabin’s screened porch and observed a screech owl roosting calmly in a worn cranny of an ancient oak until one dawn she wasn’t there, and in her absence, I knew I had to leave my husband. Sara Pirkle can often be found in her […]
Read MoreHowie Good “Art for Art’s Sake”
Howie Good Art for Art’s Sake When Henri Matisse was an old man, too feeble to handle a paintbrush any longer or even get himself out of bed, he rubbed some charcoal on the end of a pointer stick and drew on the ceiling – it had just seemed so chillingly empty. Howie Good likes […]
Read MoreErica Kent “The Night My Father Died”
Erica Kent The Night My Father Died the moon of his face shone dirty yellow but pretty, as it paled into a gray sky. Erica Kent lives in Portland, Maine with her family and chunky bulldog.
Read MoreJohn Hawkhead (Untitled)
John Hawkhead Watching my distance from the vehicle in front, a police dog. John Hawkhead is a writer whose short poems have been published all over the world.
Read MoreHilary Sideris “Diacritical”
Hilary Sideris Diacritical I place Greek stress in every word, a tilting stroke, an act of linguistic kindness my English can’t reciprocate. Many years ago as a child in Indiana with 20/20 vision, Hilary Sideris shot her neighbor with a BB gun.
Read MoreJanis Haag “Pink Hollyhocks”
Janis Haag Pink Hollyhocks The stalks shoot up first, though you have done nothing to deserve them, restarting from last year’s leftovers, fuzzy green lengths, extending slender arms that end in plate-sized leaves, tiny buds clustering like tumors along each stalk, ones that will grow and burst into frilly magenta, taking over the bed by […]
Read MoreC.T. Holte “Job Application”
C.T. Holte Job Application My idea of an ideal occupation would be to watch over you when the weather gets cold to make sure you don’t lose your mittens. C. T. Holte grew up in Minnesota without color TV; has had gigs as teacher, editor, janitor, etc.; gets poems published occasionally; and got a cool […]
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