Larry Wright Black Tail Deer I am running red-eyed through the wet woods, over ancient roots and rocky menaces into the endless arms of night. Larry Wright was born, raised and still lives in Sitka, Alaska, where in public, he’s been a bad singer a worse comedian and mediocre actor.
Read MoreJ. R. Solonche The Lake in the Rain The lake in the rain remembers when it was the rain and quietly cries in the depth of its sleep, which, if you carefully listen, sounds like rain on a lake. J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines, journals, and anthologies since the early 70s and […]
Read MoreHowie Good The Osprey Coming out of the sun, it passes with steady, languid wingbeats over the marsh, clutching in its claws a fish that must be astonished to be flying. Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Read MoreHowie Good Accidentally Like a Martyr I don’t pray and I don’t believe in ghosts, but sometimes it just happens – our eyes allow beautiful light to get in. Howie Good is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Read MoreCary Hunter America looks the same from both sides The landscape changes like a t-shirt on a pretty boy you already know isn’t into you. Cary Hunter is the unknown author of many, many poems.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Sunday Here in the garden, where nobody waits, we wrap our bodies in fog, river’s breath, and our eyes strain to see past this flesh into other lives. Steve Klepetar has taught one of his granddaughters to do the Loco-Motion, though she insists that it is not easier than learning her ABCs.
Read MoreSteve Klepetar Bread My grandfather tore his bread, sloshed it around brown gravy, bent over his plate, but my grandmother buttered hers with light, demure dabs, and If I could find their graves, I’d pour out red libations, feel their bodies buried deep in mine. Steve Klepetar has taught one of his granddaughters to do […]
Read MoreJames A. Clark Paper Fortune Teller If I could fold myself back on myself again and again, if I could turn the whole thing over and fold it backward, backward, back to the beginning, I’d write your name under every flap and every day I’d tell myself This is my fortune. James A. Clark earned […]
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