By: Bryce Johle Brother Sores Forget how we ulcered. You used to trail pearled ropepast classroom windows, stitch into microfoam,veined maple mecca. I was a squirrel hopping fenceposts,along a Van’s-trotting hipster, cracking the pearls,harvesting cardigan fruits as if I found…
By: Peter Wakefield Kitcher 22 November 2003 Sir, As my wife and I had been assigned as “Spectators” to the last National Ceremony, I have been asked to give an account of the proceedings. I have interviewed many of those…
By: Jeffrey Delano Davis The raw chickenin the frying panpulpy, thick, sinuoussheared apart with scissorsolive oilhaphazardlydrizzled, burner unlit, your thin tremulous handsracked with sunspotsand varicose veinslightly touched your lip. “How long has this been sitting here, Ma?” This horrorstarted so…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Trudge or Fly?As soles pace paving, up aloftthe pupils pointing brick above,learn walls a street scene gallery,frames overlook, day’s oeuvre show,evolving exhibitions, years.Who owns the wall, the sweeps supplied –a brush with property and law –but bills…
By: Todd Mercer It’s infuriating and impossible to understand: my person refused to name me. Who does that? Every other horse in this stable? Normal names. At first I thought it was an oversight, but then it struck me how…
By: Clive Aaron Gill When I interviewed for a server job two years ago, the restaurant owner, Mr. Emiril Fieri, said, “Dean, Casa Tua has the ambiance of a classy private club on the Italian Riviera. My patrons expect excellent…
By: Amrita Valan Christmas came. But wearing a mask this year. The mask came on too late for Patrick Lee. He succumbed at fall, on All Hallows Eve actually. Pigheadedly insisting masks don’t stop the virus till the virus stopped…
By: Ken W. Simpson Revelations Ghosts are memoriesthat refuse to die live with demonsor drown in their tears. ### Sorrow The mountains of mourninggrieve for the deadin the white snows of winter. ### Surreal Reality hides from the subconscious mindin…
By Taylor Dibbert Neither,Resurrection,Nor,Revival,What,They’reBuilding,Together,Is,Something,Completely,Different. ### Taylor Dibbert is a widely published writer and journalist. He’s the author of the Peace Corps memoir “Fiesta of Sunset.”
By: R.T. Castleberry WE MEASURE AFTERNOONSIN SMOKE. Early May sinks us,that sends vines creeping toblooms ascent on terrazzo walls;chases battering windsalong canopy sidewalks,through beggars on bikesbartering in desert camo. As I stand at a Belleville cornerwatching my prospects fade,church bells…