by Annette C. Boehm
A giant of limitless power, at man’s command.
We found him in the head of a pin. In a pincushion.
In a sewing basket. In ships and shoes and ceiling wax
and cabbages and cranes. Continue reading
by Annette C. Boehm
A giant of limitless power, at man’s command.
We found him in the head of a pin. In a pincushion.
In a sewing basket. In ships and shoes and ceiling wax
and cabbages and cranes. Continue reading
by Annette C. Boehm
First, be small. A greenfly,
the tip of a finger, a hypodermic needle.
Be smooth. Sealskin, a lisp, a slip,
the freshly waxed hood of a cop car. Continue reading
by Tim Suermondt
This delivery went so well
he says, “I should write a poem about it
and fill it with pizzazz.” Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Kyler Campbell
His father steered the small skiff across Sanborn Bay and into the grey Maine morning. He used an oar to glide across the north Atlantic swells so as not to produce any noise among the reverberating waves and dawn-treading pelicans. In the rear of the skiff, the boy peered into the bright red cooler again. He wanted to see the lobsters tumbling over top of one another. Their claws swirled around, opened and shut. The boy let the lid close. This was his first time out on the boat, and his father was teaching him to poach traps. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Steven Ray Smith
There were two.
One started poor.
The other became. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry