City of Bridges

By Lori D’Angelo

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, my hometown, the town I was born in, the town I lived in until I was 18 years old and then again for a while later, is the City of Bridges.

Pittsburgh has 446 bridges, more than Venice, Italy, which formerly held the record for the most bridges. Bob Regan, then a visiting professor at the University of Pittsburgh, figured this out by counting them and writing a book about Pittsburgh’s bridges. Continue reading

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Halona Blowhole

By George Held

On the east end of O’ahu
there’s a seaside outcropping
of lava in the midst of which sits
a great eye-hole – formed
eons ago by molten lava tubes
during volcanic eruptions – Continue reading

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Wild Roosters

by Jane Hall

Roosters roam the island of Kauai
feral descendants of red jungle fowl
that rode outriggers from the Marquesas,
perfect posture, each step a performance,
the epitome of the word cocky.
Feathers glazed copper and teal and inky black,
vulgar beauty of iridescence, roosters
roosters, roosters around the dumpsters,
on the tennis courts, and in the vacant lot
behind the shave ice stand. Continue reading

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Drowned

By Patrick J. Murphy

The wind came in off the plains to the town of Milan, Ohio and curled around the clapboard house of Thomas Alva Edison. It reached the walls and climbed to the eves outside the attic window. When it howled, the bed seemed to move, as if it were carrying the boy away.

“Pitt.” His older brother slept against the other sloping wall, a long shape sprawled beneath a wool blanket, hardly a comfort, barely a presence.

“Go to sleep.” Continue reading

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A Land So Flat

By Tommy Dean

Before Audrey had left for the city and the college that promised her a new kind of life, she had called her Daddy a hick. They were pretending she wasn’t leaving the next day, that her bags hadn’t been packed for weeks, that she hadn’t turned over all her flannel shirts to her mother, piling them up on the dining room table, repeating the word “Rags” over and over, as she heaped more clothes onto the pile. She’d given up her cowboy boots too, making a big show of it at her cousin’s fifteenth birthday party the month before. Her brother had taken her aside, pointing a stubby finger at her saying, “Setting the barn on fire wouldn’t be as rude, and least there was some insurance money in it.” Continue reading

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Filed under Fiction