Howie Good Being Digital A zillion raucous crows in a bare, black tree all the unread emails in an inbox Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Read More03/21/2018 — 0
Dale Wisely
03/20/2018 — 0
Howie Good “The War Against My Great-Grandparents”
Howie Good The War Against My Great-Grandparents You closed your eyes to it, and closed your mind to it, ignored what was grabbing for them with big, meaty hands, and they ended up in the ovens, but that’s why we need beauty, fields that shimmer in the wind and do it like it means everything. […]
Read More03/19/2018 — 0
Joe Cottonwood “Physics”
Joe Cottonwood Physics Today I jogged two and a half miles with my son, read a book about Hiroshima, watched a football game on television (somebody won, somebody lost), ate a good dinner, put the kids to bed, went to a party, soaked in a hot tub, got stoned, walked home, went to bed, and […]
Read More03/17/2018 — 0
David James “Gone”
David James Gone My friend, you can’t hide behind a broken dream because the gardenia’s hint that fills your air with her perfumed scent will remain residue and thoughts of her on the stairs up to your place that first time will make you recall your only bath together, how you kissed toothpaste foam from […]
Read More03/16/2018 — 0
Crystal Ignatowski “Insomnia”
Crystal Ignatowski Insomnia The moon, unable to retire, hangs in the sky like an empty noose and I, still awake, still waking, wait. Crystal Ignatowski, thankfully, has overcome insomnia.
Read More03/15/2018 — 0
Meg Hansen “Art Crime/Graffiti”
Meg Hansen Art Crime/Graffiti What have you scribbled with permanent ink on my shadow? Meg Hansen is a locally syndicated Vermont-based columnist and Dartmouth College alumna. My essays and poetry have been published in Flow Journal, Vishwa, and Thinking Gender.
Read More03/14/2018 — 0
Amanda Laughtland “Classical Art”
Amanda Laughtland Classical Art I wish I could paint the glow of this row of streetlights through the moon roof of your car while the moon itself half-hides behind the gray, graceful columns (doric, ionic, or corinthian?) of the overpass that will take us to the karaoke bar where the line to sing will be […]
Read More03/14/2018 — 0
Eric Burke “Patient”
Eric Burke Patient At sunset, he sits on the easement, broken death mask in his hands. Eric Burke programs computers and writes poems in Columbus, OH.
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