by Aidan Coleman
The single candidate
your village wears.
A face to guess Continue reading
by Aidan Coleman
The single candidate
your village wears.
A face to guess Continue reading
by Michael Chin
1. When my grandmother finished War and Peace she started from the beginning and read it again, so entranced was she with the Russian aristocracy, with the Napoleonic Wars. With the green leather hard cover and its gold-trimmed pages. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Lowell Jaeger
Last night, snow swathed the meadow.
This morning we scroll the window shades
and trace nature’s busy history of trails,
hooves and clawed footfalls crisscrossing
acres blanketed white. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Lana Spendl
I walk into her office to give her papers
and she comes to mine to return them.
My walls are bare. Just a table, a chair.
Coffee pot in corner, next to a lamp
a coworker gave.
Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Corey Farrenkopf
I bought a mouse from the pet store. The clerk, Archie, whose name I finally learned from his laminated nametag, didn’t look at me. Two weeks later I bought a canary, orange as a tangerine. Archie remained aloof, his fingers scrolling through his smartphone. I thought he would notice when I purchased a hundred gallon aquarium, thirty some-odd fish, and all the filters/chemicals needed to develop an aquatic ecosystem in my bedroom. But no, Archie just chuckled under his breath at a photoshopped cat eating a taco. They didn’t sell cats. I would have bought one.
Continue reading
Filed under Fiction