By: KJ Hannah Greenberg A Proper Duke of Devonshire He bit the apple, a proper Duke of Devonshire.The fruit’s tang, almost piquant, certainly sour,Swirled; he crunched rhythmically to big ideasHe knew tree gifts ought not to be consideredLagniappes. Regarding to…
By: Ken Poyner CAUSE The voice comes from somewhere in the domesticated swamp behind Quibble’s house. Deep and worried with the wind, it stumbles onto the back porch and can be felt low in the bones of anyone posted there….
By Karen Lee Stradford It’s just an ordinary dayof chores.I can’t say that I’m boredbut would like to dosomething exciting. The supermarket is my first stop,crowded aisles,so I push through self-checkout.Solicitors wait for me as I exit. With less than…
By: Daril Bentley Large Lawns The good chur-chgoerswill, Idling tomorrowand cur-sing the national Newsand Saturdaymowers That haltingly go,stillin plush pews Wor-ship what theymow. Refiners of Games Our jacks and pick-up-sticks become the tanglesof the politically invested—our toss-rings and marblesthe rollings-round…
By: William T. Hathaway Surf the Apocalypse We stand on doomsday’s beachwatching waves rise and crash,breathing the brisk and final breeze.Shiva holds in one of his four armsa surfboard carved from a bodhi tree,His partner Durga and their son Ganeshstand…
By: Daniel de Culla SHE WARRIOR This lady has ridden the busThat, for the pints that she wearsShe looks like a warrior.We have heard her sayWhen she has seizedTo the bus bar:-It’s freezing.She has made me rememberTo that warrior woman(I…
By: Brian Michael Barbeito Castaneda is an interesting figure. I read his books, right up to what I believe was the last one, The Art of Dreaming. I also read the book about him and his work called Carlos Castaneda,…
By: Ruth Z. Deming After a dinner of thawed pepperoni pizza, fingerlickin baby carrots and a carton of strawberry milk, he began his pleas. Mom! Dad! Please. Please, lemme ride my scooter round the bend and I never, I promise…
By: Todd Mercer Four nights we dug a tunnel from the basement of the Jolly Roger pub to a spot directly below the vault of a bank. If you read the news much, you know which bank. We dug it…
By: Jim Bates Meadowlark on a telephone wireYellow breast feathers shining brightlyBackyard summertime sunPausing from a game of catch listeningThe trilling song of wonder filling the airThe boy smiledHe tossed his younger brother the baseball and set his mitt down“What’s…