Ron. Lavalette Soon, Green Today in the notch, despite the mere scrim of a mid-April snow, rainy flakes barely frozen, falling, liquefied, through an early morning mountain air, even the casual eye could catch (captured in a momentary parting of fog) the small grey buds of the red maple, the low spark, purple flame of […]
Read MoreDale Patterson Apocalypse Under a Christmas card sky troops reposition. Dale Patterson is a poet and visual artist living in Indiana. http://dalepattersonart.com/
Read MoreTodd Mercer My Other Ride’s Your Mom read the T-shirt of the neighborhood guy who topped out a high school football hero, my change pushed under bulletproof glass. Todd Mercer, winner of the Woodstock Writers Festival’s Flash Fiction contest, appears in Apocrypha and Abstractions, Blue Collar Review, Cease Cows, Dunes Review, Eunoia Review, 50-Word Stories, The […]
Read MoreHowie Good Love Makes All Things Strange It was as the atom once was a solar system and later a cafeteria straying over a bridge barefoot stuck on the same question occurring simultaneously everywhere like dusk curling inward manifestos and shadows with faces painted-on their ages hard to guess. Howie Good occasionally gets a poem […]
Read MoreBill Yarrow The Bitterness of Fat Tolstoy He looked around and said, “The world, like Dostoevsky, is losing at cards.” Bill Yarrow is a writer who puts on his poems one persona at a time.
Read MoreIan Mullins Amber Red traffic light glimpsed from my window drips blood through green summer leaves. Ian Mullins is not dead yet.
Read MoreCharles F. Thielman April The children of four days of rain, having left the arms of spruce, pool above roots and listen as the black-haired goats of evening slip inside loam. Born and raised in Charleston, S.C., moved to Chicago, educated at red-bricked universities and on city streets, Charles F. Thielman was married on a Kauai beach […]
Read MoreLaura M. Kaminski Converse I talk to the dead all the time, find them to be excellent listeners, more present and available than when they were alive. Links to other poems by Laura M. Kaminski are available at arkofidentity.wordpress.com
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