by Miranda Peery
Ray Gutiérrez stands at the corner of the plaza
selling beef jerky in front of the meanest car
I’ve ever seen.
A ’39 Chevy, dropped low and chrome-bright
the same blue as the
neon
electric
sky.
by Miranda Peery
Ray Gutiérrez stands at the corner of the plaza
selling beef jerky in front of the meanest car
I’ve ever seen.
A ’39 Chevy, dropped low and chrome-bright
the same blue as the
neon
electric
sky.
Filed under Poetry
by Robert Coles
When you enter your heart beats;
you hesitate but feel the need.
Through a black velvet drape
you stumble, make sure
you don’t trip over someone’s feet.
The screen flickers down the aisle Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Jose Luis Gutierrez
Filed under Poetry
by Kevin Griffith
Filed under Poetry
by Ira Sukrungruang
The Brightest Room in the World
Nitaya wonders what her life would be like without her younger brother Martin. What if she was not an orphan, not a refugee, but the natural born child of Roger and Irene Williamson of Glen Ellyn, Illinois? Nitaya imagines herself with pale white skin and freckles. She imagines herself with red hair that undulates down her back, like her mother, instead of her short stray strands that limps over her shoulders. She imagines she can speak rapid fire English and read thick books like her father, who calls her his darling queen. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction