By: Aaron Sandberg “Firehouse on Fire” It was likethe engine locked thered house doors from inside,lit the match, and wishedto be the onebeing saved. ### “Out, Out” Arched back over porcelain tub,I scrubbed all four paws and tailuntil the rinse…
By: Ronan O’Shea —Your generation is too willing to take it lying down, said Smithson Rodgers. —Oh, matron. —Don’t be facile, Murphy. —Sorry. —Your lot are spoiled. —Rotten. —You’re not used to fighting for what you believe in. —When were…
By: Grant Watson I saw it first between the trees, a lightbulb blooming in orange neon – so bright you could have reached in and picked it from the branches like a fruit. It melted softly through the dark avenues…
By: Damion Hamilton Tommy had been down a long time. Thirty years. He had been a young man when he went away. Now he wasn’t young anymore. He looked in the mirror, there was more than a little grey. But…
By Mark Kodama I. I dreamed of the perfect woman hanging on my arm. But who was I to have these silly dreams. Short and uneducated with little in the way of manners, I followed orders. But this was…
By Adam Katcher The only sound was the occasional roar of a truck on the highway nearby. Ryan stared at the screen. Midnight had already passed, and everyone else in the house was asleep. Ryan, like the day, was ready…
By: Katrenia M. Busch In loving memory When someone’s lifeIs taken too soonLeaving much strifeLeaving—open wounds It’s hard to findThe right words to expressTo often describeWhat’s here—when you left Leaving this worldBy far—too soon to goAs I’m left behind,Filled with…
By: Alyssa Sarigumba Walking through the garage doorHearing the sizzling hot panComplementary to the pleasant smell from the kitchenWhat a wonderful mother I dribble the ball towards our basketNoticing one familiar voice from the crowdYelling my name loudly, cheering me…
By: Gaither Stewart The Polish word, jestem—‘I am’, ‘here I am’, ‘present’—seems to define the life of the writer and cult figure for a generation, Andrzej Kusniewicz. On an overcast, pollution-infested Warsaw afternoon over thirty years ago in his crowded…
By: Carl Palmer I’ve heard it a lot lately. Is it a current clichéor catch phrase, the pat answer recap signalingan end to any further conversation about it ? Like the sobbing boy holding his empty cone,ice cream scoop on…