F.J. Bergmann Open to Interpretation Well, it could be a metaphor for sex, but I prefer to think of it as representing the experience of being sacrificed on the altar of the great god Pan and then dismembered and flung to the wolves who are not mentioned directly in the poem. F.J. Bergmann edits poetry […]
Read MoreHowie Good How to Prepare for Heartbreak Summoning up a kind of rage, stubbornly walk, or even crawl, across a frozen sea and then pass through a hole in a fence, on the other side of which it’s dusk, and maybe always is, no people anywhere, just stubble fields and a black dog with a […]
Read MoreToby Sharpe Sentinel On his birthday, you ice a cupcake with glacial blue and eat the whole thing in one choked mouthful, then you click onto his page, and watch the wishes pour in, and imagine him at home, or at a party, or in a restaurant, with the people he loves. Toby Sharpe once […]
Read MoreToby Sharpe Hark, The Metal Serpent The smell of autumn has crept upon the suburbs: you inhale lustily as you walk towards the station, before sinking underground to be swept eleven miles south, up an escalator, and into his arms. Toby Sharpe once fell down a manhole, but don’t worry, he’s still here, clinging on. […]
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Winter’s Ghost Maybe that was what I couldn’t see: a kind of transcendence long ago, two girls on a sofa, holding fire in their palms, waiting for winter’s ghost to finally arrive. Steve Klepetar once ran 70 yards for a touchdown, but there was no videotape back then and he can’t prove it.* […]
Read MoreJohn Grey A Conspiracy Theorist Sits Beside Me on the Bus Someday, maybe the FBI will watch his every movement, listen in to his every thought but, for now, the crazy guy who sits next to me on the bus will have to be content with my apathetic hearing, my incurious observations, my undisguised impatience […]
Read MoreNatalie Jarrett Augury I find it hard to distinguish between the faces of birds and plague masks these days. Natalie Jarrett impatiently awaits her second semester of senior year.
Read MoreVivian Wagner Pre-Op You’re on a gurney, prepped, feet under a blanket warmed with energy that might or might not be the sun’s, and through you I see my mother, also on a hospital bed, feet beneath blanket, waiting, as we all are, to wheel away. Vivian Wagner lives in New Concord, Ohio, where she’s […]
Read More