“The Other Side”
By: LaKesha Rhodes
25 years, 9 months, 45 days, 18 hours, 33 minutes, and 2 seconds. Freedom was such a distant memory. The jury had come to a unanimous vote: Guilty. Murder. In the first degree. The judge had made his decision quickly. 45 years, maximum security. The mountains of evidence had only solidified the defense. The eye...
“It’s Not My Fault”
By: Meagan Paramore
I blame the sofa; I’ve always hated the ugly piece of furniture. It was there, and we were laying on it, and it’s always been incredibly comfortable. That’s why things happened the way they did. I sit on the plush striped cushions all alone now, after he has finally gone. I didn’t mean for it...
“still frames of gray light”
By: Mira Withers
An airport with a delicate light. How inspiring. Use it as a drug of choice, as a rare luxurious treat if you will. Rare, I said, for there is a danger of losing your elusive self in the glow of your much sought iridescence. Not that I care much . . . so tired of...
“dismantling the nest”
By: Liz Chereskin
……………………………………. ……………………………………. ……………………………………. ……………………………………. there is no wait for winter in the cold you should move quickly dead plants can spell names / make suggestions as to what you do next: the wind untwines a fall season / sticks where nothing can live the trick is to walk right in to the weather / you...
“Song for 3 a.m Eggs Over Easy”
By: J. Fossenbell
In order to ensure the clarity and formatting of J.’s work, and to be as reader friendly as possible, we invite you to click on the link to read the pdf file of “Song for 3 a.m Eggs Over Easy” J. Fossenbell writes poems and other stuff. J.’s work has appeared in Wazee Independent Journal and...
“from the light”
By: Brian Miles
she said there are different kinds of delicate held in tangles, threads thumb turned to fragile, I would hold a lattice system close to animal fresh there are different clips of soft emerging from every organic skin she said she’d grow to be the strongest and I singe the thought to helpless taut to spots...
“The Look on Your Face is Exit”
By: Ryann Wahl
… … … … Seems as though leaving & instead we lean trip the lights fantastic into a half-Panini. I say throw me away & today is funny, a fine day it is but how are we to be even the door apologizes, and carefully try my hardest to be located inside your brass button...
“it has her heaving sides and so many girl leafs”
By: Carrie Lorig
kneel into the steps ………………………………….so hair………….with dresses, into crust veil,………… into seed mint…….hands. nervous oil out of a white book herbs the want sky brought out of …………………………………… my hearted …………………………………… ……………………………………… ……………………………………………. bang………..together, ………brings it out from under ………god lids maybe once. ……………………………………………….[god is youelse and boy...
“Three Polished Asterisks” ***
By: Jared Joseph
* Something vexing must stretch a person down a street with fish, as if unraveling will jacket a book eventually, as if to live weren’t to be but Benighted at noon i act out a slavish tongue, white on off-white, if i were someone else i’d be late to something probably, but to be a...
“Three Polished Asterisks” **
By: Jared Joseph
* Let’s call this foot-race the Achilles fish. My love Patroclus is in the wrong-golden, Patroclus. An arrow points here towards end there. Where’s a burial ground in this city, whatever city Thoughts too heavy on the lids. The muse pulls me but what happens if I believe not in muses, but cholera, but...
“Three Polished Asterisks” *
By: Jared Joseph
pace in a blue scenario. What’s blue is the question? The open trash bin in the bottom frayed fancy new-comer of the image * ring a lovely trip on extravagant pills I am is the common hypothesis. A hot-line of minus-hair, or shadow & atrocity exhibit ion so smoothed my cranial well-off off- white as my balletic thermal...
“Space Takes the Stage”
By: Christopher Daradics
In your brain where Space plays the stage, sing your song, fill your page. Self says to self in a whispering shout, bring it, sing it, lay it out. Strum your chords, make them wring, bust your rhymes, do your thing. Take those trees and burn them down, build a fire seen from town. Shake...
Finding our Voice: A conversation with Christopher Daradics
By: Emily Wilensky
I met Christopher Daradics when he came into the shop where I work on a recent layover from Hong Kong to South America. With a guitar strapped to his back, and a rather impish grin on his face, he gave me the impression he was on a journey. Within a few of my queries, it...
“In Those Cases Something He Didn’t Understand” Pt. VI
By: Leif Haven
Ernie woke up to Grim barking. He was in bed under a pile of covers, even though it was summer, and he didn’t want to get out, but the dog never barked–he was confident, he didn’t feel the need most of the time. Ernie didn’t have the easiest time getting out of bed anymore, not...
“In Those Cases Something he Didn’t Understand” Pt. V
By: Leif Haven
When that sweet old man had called early in the morning it had caught Barbara off guard. She usually worked late and woke up late. Getting a call at 7 am, meant to her some kind of terrible emergency–like her grandma must had died or something. It’s practically the middle of the night for her. It didn’t...
“In Those Cases Something he Didn’t Understand” Part IV
By: Leif Haven
Alex gloried over the broken flamingo, flopped tragically to its side in front of the big brown house. He dropped the large rock out of his hand. During the several moments previous he had savagely attacked the flamingo, unable to help himself, finally. The plan hadn’t been conscious. He left the house early, it’s still...
“In Those Cases Something he Didn’t Understand”: Pt. III
By: Leif Haven
The big house in the morning, big and quiet and clean and bare, the wood floors in the light. Ernie took a certain pride in this light. When Ernie met people, which these days wasn’t particularly often, he introduced himself as Ernest Stevenson. Call me Ernie, like with Bert. Since he retired he doesn’t meet...