By: Claire Scott We hold our dead hostage Squeezing every memory Every story every feeling As though they were oranges With eternal juice Keeping faded photos Old diaries– ways to keep Them more alive than dead Keep them hovering Listening to…
By: Claire Scott The past cancels the present Closing doors and windows With clicks and slams Circling and circling In a closed space The continuous curve Of a mobius strip The past sucking possibility Eating our present minute by minute Hour…
By: Claire Scott I live inside parentheses My home since I was six At night I gently lift one Or the other and slip out Tentative, tactful Not upsetting syntax Not capsizing capital letters Or kicking commas To the foot of…
By: Claire Scott the other day wearinga heavy overcoattall rubber bootsa plaid scarf wrappinghis heavenly neckcoughing, his voice nasal fromscotch and cigaretteslooking slightly stoutlooking slightly bentstubble on his divine cheeksoccasional nose picking a bit grouchy, complaints ofstuck bowels, arthritic knees he…
By: Brian Barbeito He pulled up to the place where they once sat together. That was the place on the outskirts of the suburbs, where the highway stretched south towards the major city and all that it entailed. To the…
By: Brian Michael Barberton He was almost six feet tall and didn’t know what to do with his height or anything much at all for that matter. It was early in September, and we had not played our first game….
By: Brian Michael Barbeito There is a place I saw by 16th side road and Don Mills Avenue. I was headed north and away from cities. It was to the left, a small strip plaza new and unencumbered by the…
By: William T. Hathaway At the age of 15 I decided I was going to be a writer. I loved books, and writing them seemed to be the greatest thing in the world to do. Now after eight books it…
By: Gaither Stewart Directly across the road from my store, Andrey is sitting on the wall that overlooks the long green valley. In this moment, his eyes are fixed on a bizarre figure in blooming pants and an over-sized wind…
Did he mourn the demise of his old mother who‘d walked into the sunset forever? Did he confront the flashbacks of unforgettable moments which billowed from the smoky ashes? Was he dying for the golden moments he had once lived because…