By: J.K. Durick Now Online Everything, everyone in line is onlinedealt with in a click.PIN numbers, usernames remembered,filled in or forgotten,account numbers, then totals.It’s a matter of the numberswe translate ourselves into.It’s the easy to recall password.A shorthand shortcut that…
By: Ken Poyner ADAPTABLY MORAL I work at the playground mine factory. Assembly line work, and I have no idea how many stations there are before or after mine. By the time a mine reaches me, it has already started…
By: Jim Brosnan Forever Daydreaming It’s almost eightas I barrel pastwaves of corn rows,the July sunsetsplashing the Kansassky in strawberryswirls, the longshadows of eveningstretched acrossbroken white lineson the interstate.I listen to oldieson the truck radio,harmonize with Elvis,familiar lyrical linesI sing…
By: Susan Mayer Brumel Goose and Fish Sometimes, I succumbto suffocating sadnessthat force-feedsmy heartmy soulmy madness The goose. Salmon river-racethrough my veins –the pressure pains And I am that forsaken fish:stuffed withvulnerability and fearsingled out—and eaten by a bear. The…
By Taylor Dibbert He’s justThrown awayLondon’s pinkDoggy bed,His wee LondonPassed awayA little moreThan aYear ago,He’s not ableTo putWhat he’s feelingInto words. ### Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “Rescue Dog,” his fourth full-length poetry collection,…
By: Simon Heathcote ‘You have traveled too fast over false ground;Now your soul has come to take you back.’ –John O’Donohue There is a great nest of sorrows in each of us, yet tragically, it’s long abandoned and closed down….
By: Paul Dickey Almost Infidelity Josie and I want to walk to the lake.Maybe a little fishing in the moonlight.Josie is Don’s new wife. Don says doesn’t want to go.This is in spite of the fact that he and Betty,…
By: Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal Is It Even Real After Sylvia Plath Art dies on the pagelike everything else.I do not know magic.I am not exceptional.It seems we are alldestined for hell orheaven. Is it evenreal, hell, heaven?Where we end up,is…
By: John Grey TUNDRA It’s almost midnightand the June sun is still not done shining.The day stretches widerthan it’s ever been.Night won’t come nearthe scrub alders of the tundraor the short grassthat’s been mowed by passing seasons.Landscape bathes in this…
By: Bruce Levine The City The city unfolds its wonders Cavernous streets outlining paths Glass-fronted stores and shops Eateries mingle with clothiers Each beckoning in their way Fragrances drifting through doorways Rich flavors exciting the senses Beckoning passers-by to enter…