Sandra S. McRae Timing Just as I pull into my mother’s driveway and step out of the car, hundreds of wild geese fly by overhead, laboring the air, honking and squalling, announcing my place in the family of things. Sandra S. McRae cannot get enough of life’s sweet, tender moments (www.WordsRunTogether.com).
Read MoreShloka Shankar 2 erasures distance (n.) Distance is a thousand years hardened with molasses, carved from the laws of physics. Source: An erasure culled out from Chapter 7, p. 65 of Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire. to unfasten (v.) We unfasten a bit of sense, inaudible to the wise. Source: An […]
Read MoreShloka Shankar 2 erasures spurt (n.) The best idea is a spurt, enough to consume clouds large and swift. Source: An erasure culled out from Chapter 2, p. 19 of Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire. to believe (v.) Believe in the fallen, insulated against the whirlpool of belonging. Source: An erasure […]
Read MorePeter Venable 3 poems Sun Spill Threads of light hang from cloud skirts, dabbing beach streets with swabs of steam. On a pier an octogenarian kneads sunscreen into knotted cypress knees. I Hitchhiked by an interstate bridge knee-deep in retreads. Peter Venable is serving a life sentence, condemned to compose verse.
Read MoreRyan Michael Kershaw Chinese Finger Trap I want to make it clear that this is not a metaphor for anything: I’ve got both my index fingers stuck in this Chinese Finger Trap and feel I will never escape. Ryan Michael Kershaw prefers you do the dishes right after you eat.
Read MoreJ. R. Solonche The Moon Over the Hill Outside My Window in the Middle of the Day O, old over-the-hill movie star, so that’s what you look like without all the face powder. J.R. Solonche is the author of eight books of poetry.
Read MoreJ.R. Solonche January The lake is freezing over, but whose voice is that, the voice of the ice or the voice of the water? J.R. Solonche is the author of eight books of poetry.
Read MoreStephen Dodson Country Western Tune When the drink don’t make you forget and the smoke ain’t got you lit and the music ain’t pushing like you wish it would, baby, quit trying to be so good. Steve Dodson works for the Post Office at JFK Airport, Queens, NY.
Read More