By: William Ogden Haynes I was a young professor with a newly-minted doctorate driving south from Ohio to work at Auburn University. I pulled my old Chevy into a used car dealership and before I could get out of the car,…
By: Sasheera Gounden I I was sitting in the waiting room with fear soaking my armpits leaving a trail of odour behind. The many eyes surrounding my retina were repugnant. People tend to judge you if you’re a bit strange. I,…
By: Ruth Asch The trees in silhouette, laid flat by grey light: old keepsakes, dry and frail, pressed on a page of sky. Only one blot – twigs knotted, lodged aslant; a reckless crafting, proffered to the winds or hungry eye….
By: Ruth Asch They are rebuilding proud Palmyra from kebab-sticks, (the pride of peoples, razed to dust.) One can no longer sit by a temple wall to write of doubt, from ramparts satirize the world of power; party, or paint a…
By: Chuck Orloski Midnight in D.C. – Smithsonian museum glass glare, no one around but for security cameras. The Bunker family stayed up late, emerged from bunker, and took seats upon favorite chairs. Archie’s politics stunk for Edith, she actually “pulled…
By: Lee Oleson When Coco was fourteen Marco, his father, was shot dead in a robbery. Marco was working behind the counter in a corner grocery when there was a stick up. After the thief took the money he didn’t…
By: Sasheera Gounden Upon the carousel To meet friends, family But most of all, You Pinks, blues and that of the colour bile Of static combed clouds dispersed in filthy rotunda traps Clay men hold moons Of catfish, Coney and sausage…
By: Ben Nardolilli You will not flinch over anything, it’s clear, You speak to me of the dick and the clit, But you can get clinical too, Conversing on the vagina and the penis, With no deference for the vas…
By: Ben Nardolilli In every heart of this generation is a burned over district, I have found mine, have you found yours? But we can afford lifestyle merchandise, which should be enough despite the trickle down drought We are restless,…
By: Ben Nardolilli This dance of logorrhea scares me up from the floor, when people cast limp feet from side to side until sneakers and heels matriculate in unison, the result of poor eye and ear coordination. Let the host play…