by Donna Pucciani
we are without pages,
pens dropping from our hands
stars rise on our poverty
the moon sheds light on our infirmities Continue reading
by Donna Pucciani
we are without pages,
pens dropping from our hands
stars rise on our poverty
the moon sheds light on our infirmities Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Dayna Patterson
I like the way you bent over to shake your breasts
into your bra, the way you showed
Mom how to do it, the way she
showed me. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Kateri Kosek
I wanted a hurricane
and I got one. Wanted to learn about mass,
about what flies up, and what gets left
behind. The plovers hunched on the beach, bedding
down in seaweed. Heavy wooden chairs on the decks of sea-
side cottages. It’s not what you think. Hundreds of terns Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Victoria Crawford
Hot dogs roasted over a charcoal fire
pickles and chips, fine dinner
after a hot day’s snorkeling
Agat’s coral reef,
Orote Peninsula, Guam,
concrete picnic table
between two thick-walled bunkers
urine smelly despite open
machine gun turrets facing the sea
our Yorkie gnawing his dog.
My father always liked dogs. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Anastasia Jill
Indrina bought honey from the man down the road at ten each morning, squeezing a fresh drop in the vile around her neck. She gifted the remaining goo to me, because she knew she’d never eat it.
“Then why do you buy it?”
Like every other day, she doesn’t answer. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction