Leia Laughlin Tokyo Station The cicadas scream In trees on hot summer days By the train station. Leia Laughlin is new to poetry but wishes to utilize the art form to preserve both the memories and emotions she has of taking care of her great aunt diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
Read MoreFredric Koeppel The Terror You Feel when you learn from a chance remark that someone you secretly loved long ago died, and the memory of desire comes disguised as a wafer of ash the priest delicately places on your tongue, and you feel like the animal that didn’t make it to the Ark, the one […]
Read MoreLauren Guza Brown Diagnostic “Mommy, I think you have a stress sickness,” says my six-year-old, who fills her days with Scotch-tape dollhouses and who doesn’t know the half of it. Lauren Guza Brown had aspirations of being a starving artist but ended up liking pastries too much.
Read MoreKeith Hood Starfall #3 When stars fell to Earth we were beautiful, clever boys colliding like billiard balls converging like fists as Nero’s violin played over crackling fires that mimicked our raspy congested breaths the breaths of two who had been one and were now half of nothing. Keith Hood is a writer, photographer, former […]
Read MoreHowie Good Voyagers We were just getting into it on the black couch in the den when your parents arrived back home from dinner out and a movie, and so we waited and waited until they went off to bed and then we finished up, the two of us, hardly more than kids, tossed all […]
Read MoreCynthia Ventresca My Mother and Father Fighting, 1971 There are mashed potatoes on the wall, in her hair kids at the table scared she’s dying, she’s lying on the floor by the stove and I remember her purple shirt, its silver buttons, the slippers she wore even fifty years later and every once in a […]
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche In Front This is where the shadows look their sexiest, wear their Sunday best, flow in black waves on the green beach of the grass, while the setting sun pulls the pink horizon to its chin and sets up to blow me a red kiss. J.R. Solonche is the author of 32 books […]
Read MoreAmanda Weir-Gertzog Figs Mama’s voice, honey-ripe and lilting, betrays the melancholy of her suffocating station. Amanda Weir-Gertzog lives in Durham, NC with her partner, pets, overflowing bookcases, and belongings tucked away in magical nooks sprinkled with the fairy dust of giggling home organizers.
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