Poetry
By: Lisa Creech Bledsoe The Way Poets Go On About Birds (My Secret Poem Name is Swan) True, we do go on, having had our organic yogurtwith bran on the porch as the sun rises. Jesushow could we not, after…
Poetry
By: Ricky Garni F THAT MUSEUM IS EVER hit by a tornado,Alexander Hamilton’s hairwill land on Harry Houdini’sOuija Board What’s left of the world’s smallest mermaidwill settle upon Bigfoot’s foot. ### ARCHIVES this man filmed his wife as a child.and…
Fiction
By: Janet Brown When I was a young girl, there was a little, old, brown house that was situated down from where I lived. This house, which was really a shack, would actually serve as a home for many…
Poetry
By: Michael Foldes A Pilgrim’s Progress A fish can only feed so many flies.So the earth makes a lowly home for the worm.How complete the visitor who sharesexperience with the stranger.We meditate in crowded rooms as easilyas on the Holy…
Fiction
By: Harvey Huddleston He’d just hung up with his mom from their facetime call. It had been a good one. She’d said a few times that she couldn’t hear him so he’d spoken louder, a little worried that he might…
Poetry
By: Carl Papa Palmer Lying up under the caron the floor of my garageI see his little feet arrive,the shadow of his headbending down to ask,“Whattaya want, Dad?” “Hand me that number two Phillipson the workbench over there, son.” I…
Poetry
By: Alan Ford A moral satirist.Pimps and politicians meetromantics and radicalswith no class distinction. A Rake’s Progresswith bloodline infectedby patriarchal contagiontravel sick in embryo. A Harlot’s Progressportrays seductress as victimsafe-guarding hypocrisyfor respectable women. Marriage A- La- Modesees mercenary couplingswho are…
Poetry
By: Christian Garduno Morning Frost I’m listening to your cassette and I’m wearing your t-shirtguess you could say I’m in your moodit’s a sure thingyou know I’d love toyes, yes, yessummer calls and the wind tastes like wineletters are sent,…












