Robert Witmer December At the edge of sight, through a small window, I see a few faint lights in a town I know I will never visit, so I keep watching as darkness closes over one light and then another, until the town is fast asleep and the train whistle sounds and the carriage heaves […]
Read MoreScott Hughes My Father Names the Plants As we stroll the edges of his property, my father points along the tree line and names the different plants— bald cypress, red maple, pink lantern— but in that moment, he’s not recalling them from memory: He’s bestowing the names upon them, creating them for me. Scott Hughes […]
Read MoreScott Hughes Undertow A marriage, like salt in water, can dissolve in silence as loud as the whorling sea underneath the glass-still surface. Scott Hughes has three books available at www.writescott.com.
Read MoreStateira Le Fin Often I dream of death, final breaths whispering through groaning trees, light surrendering to darkness under a halo of smiling stars- le fin. Stateira is an aspiring poet who enjoys French Symbolism, learning languages, star-gazing, opera, dancing freestyle and, naturally, writing poetry. gardening and hopes to someday publish an entire anthology of poetry. […]
Read MoreNancy Kay Peterson Thinking Too Much If I let go of my mind I don’t know if it will float or hesitate and hover like a butterfly or collapse under its own weight. Nancy Kay Peterson is grateful there are readers who appreciate one-sentence poems.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Swallow Island I heard the horses nicker, saw them gallop across the field just as rain began pelting down, and I thought of you then, your long hair and your eyes, how you would have loved the sight of those wet beasts kicking up mud as they raced for home. Steve Klepetar drives […]
Read MoreIan Willey The Experts I’m trying to get a picture of that bush warbler and after nearly an hour on the ground my knees screaming murder the bird appears on a sunlit branch and my finger is on the shutter when three men in suits burst from the branches pointing at the bird and saying […]
Read MoreAaron Sandberg A Lock of Walt Whitman’s Hair Displayed at the New York Public Library I looked for you beneath the glass and saw a white swirl like a fish being found, diving elsewhere to find me. Aaron Sandberg thinks chilaquiles is an excuse to eat nachos for breakfast and he’s on board. Find him […]
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