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 Mary Kovaleski Byrnes
I climbed in there once, the sleeping mountain
warm from within and exhaling
through invisible fissures under my sandals.
And then the once-buried now-excavated city, Continue reading