by Derek Kannemeyer Sober, Ordinary, Honest Men “On the sixth day of April, 1830, 161 years ago today, in Seneca County, NY, six sober, ordinary, honest men, acting in obedience to a commandment of God, assembled to found a church. What they did that day ranks among the most important events to have transpired since […]
The Language of Belief Read More »
by Ylan Arwe My mother claims premonitions of death always come to her in dreams, or as birds gently tapping at her window. For me, news of death always arrived the same manner it does for everyone else: abrupt, awkward, downright rude. When I heard my phone ring before dawn, I feared my mother had
by Emma McCoy Emma McCoy (M.A) has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Across the Margin, Stirring Literary, and Thimble Mag. She reads for Chestnut Review and Whale Road Review. She’s probably working on her novel right now. Catch
Clutching the Keyboard Read More »
by Beth Richards The drive down Florida State Highway 19 is typical west-central, formerly small-town Florida: a flat four-lane, divided highway with stoplights synchronized to match the speed limit—which no one follows. Every 1,000 feet or so, a lane graciously sashays left, allowing travelers to cross the divider to access a condo complex or fast-food
by Peter Leroe-Muñoz BREAKFAST IN AMERICA To be precise, my single cup of Japaneseloose-leaf tea purchased from an Afghani waiter whohappened to be working that shift in a French cafésat down between an Ethiopian eatery and a Malaysiannoodle house knotted with Guatemalan cocineros ona city block that was previously German butfrequently misattributed as Dutch. A
Breakfast in America, Border Keepers Read More »
by Jenna McClain It’s sort of silly, don’t you think?A clown car painted taupe,a handlebar mustache on a priest.A surgeon wearing Crocsand any faith put in a mall cop. Poetry’s the rubber shoe,pedal to the floor,cross hanging from the rear view mirror,broken taser in the glove box.You can only go one speedand no one
by Wayne Lee Writer, editor and teacher Wayne Lee (wayneleepoet.com) lives in Santa Fe, NM. Lee’s poems have appeared in Tupelo Press, Slipstream, The New Guard, Writer’s Digest and other journals and anthologies. He was awarded the 2012 Fischer Prize and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and four Best of the Net Awards. His collection The
by Vesper Grove When I was a sister my brother told me stories underblankets of storm clouds and pillow forts because he thoughtI was scared of thunder, and the yelling in the walls. That’s whenI learned fear could bring people together. When I was a sister my brother stole books on castles;We crafted every
tell that story again Read More »
by C.L. Rooster Martinez “Witchy Woman” plays & the Eagles don’t knowthat I know that brujeria lives in the hair –curly & wet & coarse & coffeerich mystic mujeressirenas con cabellos sin cortaswild thicket womenovergrown in the face of a mad psychotic cosmic I love the shock & awe you adorn me in–Pelo on
Even after the world ends, I always date peludas Read More »
by Kaylee Fichtel And suddenly its autumn born again,and although I’ve moved half a state away(back to the coast, to the forest, to home),the kiss-swept sun of september duskis the same milky gold of every fall before: Falling, lazily, through leaves and brancheslike tacked-up birthday streamers sagging with ageand dappling different sidewalks in the