Selina Mahmood Tongue Give me truth and I’ll pour this bitter sweet soul onto your smoldering tongue. Selina Mahmood is a medical student who enjoys stepping on fallen crunchy leaves and dancing in monsoon rains.
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Richard Jones: “Hover”
Richard Jones Hover I fill the flower-shaped feeder and hang it in the garden, but each spring the hummingbirds mistake the blossoms of my ears for flowers. Richard Jones was once a surfer who rode storm waves off Hatteras.
Read MoreBen Telicki: “Douglas”
Ben Telicki Douglas He ’s the kind of guy who gets angry when you call him just “Doug.” Ben Telicki has his back turned
Read MoreM. A. Istvan Jr.: “The world that becomes so small…”
M. A. Istvan Jr. The world that becomes so small in the myopia of hunger opens up again after some bread. M. A. ISTVAN JR., an animal dealer based out of Austin TX, has spearheaded a campaign to display zoo creatures in “unnatural” settings (walruses, for example, in replicas of office mailrooms.)
Read MoreBen Groner III: “Consciousness”
Ben Groner III Consciousness If clear water is brain matter— and the clay jar, time— can anybody tell me the source of this wine? Ben Groner III has work published in Texas Poetry Calendar, enjoys watching cloud formations, and believes cilantro is proof of a benevolent deity.
Read MoreJon Densford: “Gullible ‘Bout Bach”
Jon Densford Gullible ‘Bout Bach We almost convinced him that “Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme” translates “Foolish virgin! Awaken and shake your money maker!” Jon Densford of Memphis, Tennessee strongly prefers to be left-justified, but he has sometimes pivoted to the center.
Read MoreJon Densford: “Whether I Would or No”
Jon Densford Whether I Would or No Instead of burning it at both ends, I hacked a candle into shards and lit a dozen unknown tongues. Jon Densford Sr. of Memphis, Tn. strongly prefers to be left-justified, but he has sometimes pivoted to the center.
Read MoreMichael Berkowitz: “For a medical examiner in Orlando”
Michael Berkowitz For a medical examiner in Orlando Worse than the sirens, worse than the phone calls from the office that come too early, too often, at all, worse than the hangover pulsing against my temples, the coffee, worse even than the silence would be is this chorus from pockets and purses and palms of […]
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