by Charlotte Covey
you will never be
just a poem. you will
be rocks breaking
ribs, angelfish kissing Continue reading
by Charlotte Covey
you will never be
just a poem. you will
be rocks breaking
ribs, angelfish kissing Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Shannon L. Bowring
No one’s asking what I think about the tree.
“Tear it out,” says my father.
“If you had it your way,” my mother sighs, “the entire lawn would be a golf course.”
“If you try to tear it down,” my Sister the Activist proclaims, “I’ll live in it. You aren’t so heartless that you’d bulldoze a tree your own daughter was living in, would you?”
“Lawn guy’s coming Saturday. The tree goes.” Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Carol V. Davis
1.
What is the dream life of a cicada?
Imagine burrowing underground for 17 years,
such sulky juveniles, then within hours
merging with millions, the males boisterous,
females silent, clumsy fliers, colliding mid-air. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
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