Poetry

A.J. Huffman – Paranoia

Paranoia My mind imagines, bleeds ink for almost-profit in shades of depravity most could not even begin to conceive.  I sleep with scissors beneath my pillow for sanity, sit with my back against walls, always keep doors in view.  I walk my dogs, carry a Maglite that has not worked in years as a weapon, […]

Stacey Margaret Jones – Creed

Creed I believe you will turn toward me in the morning, powered by an almighty need to confirm I am still on this earth, that what is seen and unseen still lives between us. This is one thing I must have the only thing that can trigger the day that is begotten of our agreement. […]

Rodney Nelson – To the Tune of a Stepdaughter

To the Tune of a Stepdaughter LG  1967–2013 when I brought you into my country everywhere I had gone became the town or river of a child and you renamed it to your own music and you were singing even though I had broken into the refrain and would do so again on leaving the […]

John Grochalski – angst und schrecken in der david quelle

angst und schrecken in der david quelle these stairs are designed to murder a man who’s had too much to drink narrow, they wind like a medieval dungeon to a bathroom that smells like death upstairs where i left my wife alone you can hear the six german men laughing crowded around the tiny bar […]

Carolyn D. Elias – Cyprus, 1940

Cyprus, 1940 Clinging to my mother’s arm I watched the blood orange sky blot out the twinkling stars. Out house burned. Ashes of our tall, proud crops perfumed the air   Rebel soldiers, creeping dogs in the night, shot my brother. His crimson blood stained the river.   We were never to drink from it […]

William Greenfield – My Father’s Shoes

My Father’s Shoes Hand- me- overs from a learned brother, they lay cracked and misshapen in the bottom of the dark closet; a symbol of some latent sadness. It was there, but hidden from the innocence of youth. They spoke of a man in need of something above and beyond the benefits of comfortable footwear.  […]

Stacey Margaret Jones – Wye Mountain

Wye Mountain Winds cut through thick fleece, the sky is dirty-cotton-ball gray, but it’s two days past the vernal equinox. You want to see the daffodil fields. We heave the youngest dog into the back seat but leave the older two behind, ask the iPhone, “Where is Wye Mountain?” Pointing the sedan toward the gold, […]

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