Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco “On the Last Ferry” The city is a lace of aching light falling away. Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco loves pitbulls and can’t smell.
Read More07/05/2015 — 0
Dale Wisely
07/03/2015 — 0
Melissa B. Calzari: “Untitled”
Melissa B. Calzari How can I love you if I even forget to water my plants? Melissa B. Calzari is a 20-year-old psychology student from Italy, still in the process of learning.
Read More07/02/2015 — 0
Melissa B. Calzari: “Untitled”
Melissa B. Calzari Such a hilarious thing: I’m drowning yet they’re still telling me to breathe. Melissa B. Calzari is a 20-year-old psychology student from Italy, still in the process of learning.
Read More07/02/2015 — 0
Pearl Pirie: “What was settled”
Pearl Pirie What was settled We spade in a new shape for the garden, listening to the silence in the calling pondering how the treeful of crows would look just like a tree if I couldn’t hear the sound and missed the emptying upwards. Pearl Pirie writes out of Ottawa, Canada when not being a […]
Read More06/30/2015 — 0
Lucia Damacela: “The Rise”
Lucia Damacela The Rise The room brews in the dark –the silence strong and black– then the phone rings, life makes its call, and coffee is ready. Lucía Damacela lives in Singapore, writes about the world and tweets as @lucyda.
Read More06/28/2015 — 0
Howie Good: “Roadkill”
Howie Good Roadkill I saw it and swerved, but when I glanced in the rearview mirror, there was a black splotch in the center of the road, and for the rest of the day, the first day of hot weather, I felt a quiet sadness like the last video store in existence had closed. Howie […]
Read More06/27/2015 — 0
Howie Good: “Ode to Selfies”
Howie Good Ode to Selfies The star- shaped holes twinkled and undulated and seemed to encourage selfies, but as I lifted my phone, I saw my face splinter into many tiny, incomplete truths, little details like clues that it’s spring, a car found abandoned on a suicide bridge, still running. Howie Good will give anything […]
Read More06/25/2015 — 0
Brad Rose: “Lullaby”
Brad Rose Lullaby In place of light, dream trespasses throughout our bodies, unthinkable stars whirr weightless, while in the next apartment, two secrets shush the darkness to sleep, as if it were an infant sky. Brad Rose frequently contributes to Right Hand Pointing and One Sentence Poems. His book of poems and micro fiction, Pink X-Ray, will be available Spring, 2015 […]
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