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 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 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 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 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 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 […]
Read MoreMike Cole With You (for Christy) At Horseshoe Lake, a pocket of snowmelt, you swam in the rain, and on the other shore those hikers in their ponchos leaned on walking sticks and contemplated your abandon to cold water. Mike Cole lives and writes and waits on the arrival of poems in the mountains of […]
Read MoreSoumya Rampal Magnum Opus I read Plath and I wonder if she wrote to Death on a sunny day, when everything was bright except for her insides – “dying is an art” she said, her first and last attempt. Soumya is trying to be more forthright.
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