by Michael Lythgoe He asks us to sketch what we see as if we are in a studio. Act as model, as artist. Draw lines. Record Holy City sounds, the light, a gateway, bodies in motion, at rest, a child’s voice; a black horse pulls a carriage; hear hoofs clop—the slam of fists on war… Read More Circling The Ginkgo Tree In Charleston
by Marcie Behm-Bultz A snow pack hangs between sharp-toothed peaks in the distant gorge. It settles into a long white cloud in the perfect blue sky and at night it rises to meld with stars that surround the Southern Cross. The sound of meltwater in November’s Spring thunders in the far-away, crushing and smoothing the… Read More The Maori Believe that Man is Eating Ice
by June Freeman Baswell Your world is a line drawn in water. Attack and fall back. Fire and cease fire. Hours of boredom relieved by moments of sheer terror, When all you want really is to be clean, to be home, to have food That ashes have never touched. Two eggs yesterday snatched from… Read More And the Rest is Silence
by Allen Guest One could drown here if not careful. I reach across our table, take your hand. We drop below the surface, watch the faces of dull strangers blur above us. I hear your breathing as we sink deeper, gliding along the floor now, flow together, weave our way between tables and chairs,… Read More Swimming at Nick’s
by Trilby Plants Mary Trull believed in duty. Her most important duty was grading student papers in a timely way. By the time she finished, the impotent winter sun visible through her classroom windows had sunk behind snow clouds. She put on her coat, gathered her things, turned off the lights, and locked the… Read More Retirement
by Barbara Evers Heather shivered from the cold as she juggled Mandy in her arms and attempted to unlock the trailer’s door. Behind her, her husband, Jonah, stomped his feet on the concrete step, his not-so-subtle way of urging her to hurry. The door swung open, and she scurried inside the small entryway. “Brrr,… Read More Cedar Revenge
by Bob Strother There were lots worse places to live. On the Southside, he’d once shared a second floor room in an abandoned hotel with a bunch of meth-heads missing half their teeth and most of their brains. The busted window let in the elements—which under different circumstances, would have been worth it to help… Read More Casey’s Alley
