HIBLER by Matt Stevenson
HIBLERby Matt Stevenson
The Dead Men
Somewhere in Michigan there’s a few hundredmen buried in the woods. Some with theirheads shot off; others have just lost limbs. A feware burned, their bodies so unrecognizably melted.
There’s an...
DOOR AJAR by Fabrice Poussin
DOOR AJARby Fabrice Poussin Door AjarLosing direction I sighed againmade of what he imagined in a late nightlittle me at dawn in the river of torrentialpassions cooled to the icy granite rock.I plunged again Olympian...
IF ONLY by Brian C. Felder
IF ONLYby Brian C. Felder Call Us A Work In ProgressLife, with all its moving parts,is a profoundly complicated business ~a ‘process’, as people are fond of saying ~most often experienced in a linear fashion,replete...
MY GRANDMOTHER’S BRIEF INVENTORY OF UNNATURAL DISASTERS IN SINGAPORE by Cyril Wong
MY GRANDMOTHER’S BRIEF INVENTORY OF UNNATURAL DISASTERS IN SINGAPOREBy Cyril Wong
1
Of course, I remember my husbandas a young man – sleeked-back hair,his taller frame, a voice like a wall – that first date, holding...
MY GRANDMOTHER’S BRIEF INVENTORY
MY GRANDMOTHER’S BRIEF INVENTORY OF UNNATURAL DISASTERS IN SINGAPOREBy Cyril Wong
1
Of course, I remember my husbandas a young man – sleeked-back hair,his taller frame, a voice like a wall – that first date, holding...
WITHOUT YOU by Ann Christine Tabaka
WITHOUT YOUby Ann Christine Tabaka
Without You
A thousand years agoit came to be, or so itseems. It spit my heartin two, or so it felt.
Emotions drift upona waft of smoke, burningmy eyes once more.Past’s subtle...
THE BRIDE by Wally Swist
THE BRIDEby Wally Swist Salutations: after Antonio Porchia for Richard Shaw 1.The fields are buttercuppedand edged with ragged robin. We've entered the realmof the subtle variegations of the colors of summer. 2.Wishing you well on a mid-June evening,one on...
SURVIVAL BALLAD by Michael Atkinson
SURVIVAL BALLADby Michael Atkinson
Investigations
“All detectives are in love, and all detectivestories have beds.”– Guillermo Calderon,screenplay for Neruda
All detective stories are clocks, swallowingsecrets and measuring the worries of sunrisedown the alleys streaming east.All detective stories lie,...
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DETACHED by Laura Dunn
DETACHEDby Laura Dunn
I.Phase, just a phase. Not to worry,You’re only insane.Dirty hippy, smoking herb,We don’t want to share your word.Just too liberal, just too free,Don’t you wish you were like ---Me me or me?You...
.jpg "WORD by Patrick T. Reardon")
WORD by Patrick T. Reardon
WORDby Patrick T. Reardon
Make
In summer, the father grilled hot dogswith his white t-shirt off, skin burning.
In fall, he tolled novenas.
After snow melt,the whitened bones of a gnawed bird,chaos of feathers.
Can you taste the beckoning?
In...