by Peter Grandbois
There is only this hollow
tree shaped from fear Continue reading
by Peter Grandbois
There is only this hollow
tree shaped from fear Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Joy Luh
Silver. It was everywhere. Always. A flash of the underside of a bird’s wing as it caught an updraft. The color left behind when a fly is there then gone. Maybe the reflection of a passing plane in a puddle, whose stillness has yet to be disturbed. Everywhere. Perhaps the color that someone with synesthesia would see to accompany a sweet note. It was the small things, the dots floating around in his vision that he could never quite catch. The color that went hand in hand with the sound of a ring dropping onto a cold and unforgiving floor. The color, or what he imagined the color to be, of the varying screws and bolds and plates all wound up in his body. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Susana H. Case
On vacation in Niagara Falls,
he rips feathers from pillows
in the middle of the night, rains
white birds all over the bed.
This is not the first time Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by J. T. Townley
So I rang the bell, Chuck answered, and we stared at each other through the screen door. You remember Chuck. He had a cold beer in his hand. He still wore his uniform, though untucked, shoeless, no gun. He grimaced at my companions, then said: Continue reading
by Rob Vance
Race day started with smoke, a wad of gumbi gumbi leaves
smoldering in rough hands. A shaman, face painted white
as the sand on which we stood, blessed us by the azure waters
of the Indian Ocean. The sound of digeridoos vibrated
the way the breath of 1200 athletes resonates at the sound
of the starting gun, a signal to all with a warrior’s heart. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry