Erica Goss Penitent They die in secret places, bodies whisked away, not a scrap left behind, still I have found them, whole and pliable, eyes not yet dull, fit the small bulk into my palm, and felt as if I had broken a promise, failed to find the most obvious answer, when it was hitting […]
Read MoreGabriel Patterson A Summer to Remember With Peppermint Schnapps in my dad’s tool belt, we remodeled our house one summer, when the only sound I could hear was that of a Spalding basketball, bouncing upon the concrete and reverberating off every bone in my body. Gabriel Patterson once ate McDonald’s breakfast every morning for a […]
Read MoreWilliam Cullen, Jr. The Day a Nature Journal Lost Its Grant A truck backfires and flurries suddenly appear as if some hunter had blasted a snowy egret out of the sky— a no-fly zone for beauty. The author’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in *82 Review, Canary, Farming Magazine, New Verse News, The Drought Anthology, and Written River: A Journal […]
Read MoreDeonte Osayande Cellular If I made an app on my phone for black love I would name it something like did you eat or let me know when you made it home safely because I need the condition of my lover’s survival on hand, in my palm at a moments notice just like how quickly […]
Read MoreMark Young The Spiritual Exercises Whilst examining Harvard’s historical plate collection we discover a magnificent pipe organ, a printing press, & a large number of suicides. Mark Young‘s most recent books are Bandicoot habitat & lithic typology, both from gradient books of Finland, & an e-book, For the Witches of Romania, which is forthcoming from Beard of Bees.
Read MoreJohn Riley Twigs When you wake from a stranger’s sleep the day is not a dove to light in a green cloud of trees, nor does the sum of each tree’s branches equal the branch from which they come. John watches trees grow in North Carolina.
Read MoreRobert E. Petras This Day Again As I see my grandfather lob a baseball that lands a soccer ball at the feet of my granddaughter I realize that we go through this life not in straight lines but in a series of arcs. Robert E. Petras resides in the small town of Toronto, Ohio, is […]
Read MoreJoy Kettren Anna Mae Her mind is a book with a broken spine, opening to the same few, favored passages again and again. Joy Kettren had a late start, but has been writing poetry for about 15 years. She has been published in several journals, and would like to be a full-time poet when she grows […]
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