Lindsay Adkins In the Big City Most days all I wish is for errands with my mother, when she would ask if I liked the plaid curtains or the floral curtains best and then buy whichever I picked, and afterward take me to the dentist where my name would be called out to an entire waiting […]
Read MoreJon Riccio Practicality Zen lesson: if you crave a rock god’s sliver, extract the tour bus first. Jon Riccio’s current occupation is graduate student, having donned a Thin Mint Cookie costume in day-old stubble to pay last month’s rent.
Read MoreJon Riccio Youngstown En Route In the rust belt it rains hotels, Ohio an Econo Lodge morass Jon Riccio’s current occupation is graduate student, having donned a Thin Mint Cookie costume in day-old stubble to pay last month’s rent.
Read MoreJon Riccio Shoulder The pallbearer learns by muscle memory, your offspring graffiti and kerosene. Jon Riccio’s current occupation is graduate student, having donned a Thin Mint Cookie costume in day-old stubble to pay last month’s rent.
Read MoreC. Wade Bentley From the window of the evening train, I saw a woman stare back at me from a second-story brownstone, and it could not have been clearer that we both wished to trade places, that I would deal with her elderly father who had lost everything else but the words, repeated, wild and […]
Read MoreC. Wade Bentley An Exaltation of Lark Well okay one meadowlark on a power line his flash of yellow level with the horizon as I crest a slight hill in the West Desert windows down so that as I pass I catch just half a bar of his pretty-little- song meaning it must be morning […]
Read MoreCody Badaracca OKC Storms I awoke spooked as peals of thunder bowled over the clouds, my dreams galloping out of my head with the nightmares, nostrils flared, a kinetic train-wreck of muscles under wet brown skin and their tails raised high like flags, snapping in the dusty wind they kicked up in the now-empty corrals […]
Read MoreCamille Thomasson The Gang’s All Here Mother has lost track of who’s living and who’s dead, which means everyone is up and running, and her mind is a little patch of heaven. Camille Thomasson is an obsessive scribbler of poems on cocktail napkins and grocery receipts.
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