by William Hawkins
We’re on our way to Disney World when an angel flies out from a ditch. It never stood a chance. The windshield rattles but doesn’t crack. You can hardly see the road for its wings. Continue reading
by William Hawkins
We’re on our way to Disney World when an angel flies out from a ditch. It never stood a chance. The windshield rattles but doesn’t crack. You can hardly see the road for its wings. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Ókólí Stephen Nonso
A mother ties a white cloth to the door, a quiet flag,
while rain drips from the zinc like a ticking clock.
Boys carry empty bowls past the checkpoints,
dust rising behind them like unspoken prayers. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Ace Boggess
I walk among droplets,
unconcerned, soothed by scents
of damp earth & wood
masking my smoky breath
the way the smell of baking bread
hides, however briefly, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Eric Paul Shaffer
xxxxx I hear the rain stop, and from the eaves begins
the erratic whisper that sparks the leaves below, drop
xxxxx by drop. Dogs released into the yards bark
at the fences, and children play in the street, splashing Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Anna Scarpone
There’s a room alive with the heat of bodies, and a booming bass its ever-pulsing heart. Limbs press against limbs, flushed skin is illuminated only by the opening and closing of the bathroom door. Now and then, some shrieking, drunken laugh rings out over the crowd like a descant. In this darkness, I’m no more than a body. No sun casts a shadow on my face, revealing its familiar imperfections. Hidden is the bump on my nose, the freckle on my upper lip. The telltale inflections in my voice become another part of that universal chorus, the beat blasting from the DJ stand. In this ocean of bodies, we are all grasping desperately for anything, anyone to ground us. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction