by Jeanine Walker
Two hunched, shadowed figures, two flat silhouettes, sway in front of the boats
that went out to drag fish in each morning, as we slept beneath mosquito netting, Continue reading
by Jeanine Walker
Two hunched, shadowed figures, two flat silhouettes, sway in front of the boats
that went out to drag fish in each morning, as we slept beneath mosquito netting, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Russell Thayer
Maggie waited on a barstool, ready to enjoy a night of hot jazz. Another long day of restaurant work had ended, and she was finally free of her custard-yellow uniform, white apron, and the idiotic mutterings of her co worker, Eve. The thought of Ronnie Johnson’s Combo on stage soon at the New Orleans Swing Club made Maggie snap her fingers with excitement. She’d dance tonight if a man asked her. Someday she might even get up on stage and beat that old piano herself. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Damien Uriah
the present word sleeps
in a wet tennis shoe laid on a tarp
while the nameless bird sings from the south
as if resting in the sky
in another world the river woman sneaks up behind me
her footprints travelling as rocks Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Elizabeth Crowell
When my son weighed a pound a half,
his breath lagged like a dragging step.
His heart murmured, unclosed,
and so they opened that tiny, living body up. Continue reading
by Matthew LaFreniere
We drive, my mother and I, down
Timberlake, not silent but not talking,
the neons of store signs and brake lights stark Continue reading
Filed under Poetry