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Manifest by Joan E. Cashin

Regarding the traffic spilling down the streets at dusk, slow pleasure, as the brakes are pressed, released, and pressed again. Regarding the canvas flag in the plaza giving way in the wind, folding up, framing a triangle of sky and snapping to attention again. Regarding the pale stones lining the dark paths in the park, … Read more

Saturday Night by Joan E. Cashin

Twlight in a small town, the boys prowling the street, driving around helpless and full of longing. Two children burst from the shadows and run into a doorway, quivering like moths, their torches arched with joy, as they shout, “S’prised you!” Grandmother steps onto the porch and calls in a level voice, “Home now.”Joan E. … Read more

Providence by Bree Rolfe

There’s a sign in the lobby that reads: Fine in unblinking neon. The day before you arrive, I don’t notice. After you’re gone, it’s there — suddenly constant, freakishly pink. The hotel bartender, from Kansas, tells me he builds large scale sculptures. He’s trying to reconstruct the one room schoolhouse his mother taught in on … Read more

The Lobster by Bree Rolfe

Nigel regrets his rap days. I make mixes of emo songs I loved ten years ago. In Texas, he’s divorced and I’m dying. Back home there’s him in a track suit performing in Kim Shorey’s basement. And then there’s me loving it. I’m Rob Base and I came to get down… This is what adults … Read more

Part of the Family by P M F Johnson

In our shadowed bedroom a small weight leans against me, surprises me awake. The dog’s sigh echoes my wife, both restless in their dreams. She lifts him onto our bed when tom-toms of thunder drive nightmares up the horizon, or on the first thankful night we return home from a trip. This satisfies his need … Read more

Natural Disaster by P M F Johnson

Take the stairway down past strewn and damp-dappled rough hewn planks broken cobbles holding the crush above the weight of ruined rooms feel for each step hopelessness choking thoughts your breath loud proceed over splinters torn photos memories a murmur ahead explains the dampness on your skin the stirring of waters your foot goes suddenly … Read more

Bloody Mary by C. Cimmone

I never played Bloody Mary in my mother’s bathroom mirror. It was thin and tall and displayed random black spots through its lens as clearly as it did my big, turned nose and fat gap between my front teeth. The mirror, bastard by nature, hung tightly to the back of the bathroom door and was … Read more

Violently Sundered by Steve Wilson

Violently sundered, shattered, we are          ash and debris –    ragged fragments of song now   borne away by the light. Steve Wilson’s work has appeared in journals and anthologies nationwide, as well in three collections – the most recent entitled The Lost Seventh. He teaches creative writing and Beat Literature at Texas … Read more