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Article Archive for September 2016

The arch is smaller going east

September 30, 2016 – 5:55 am | One Comment

The arch is smaller going east
by Thomas Pescatore

St Louie from the opposite side

some bastard thing

the ground all

tore up

the river fortified

with food stand & drink

barricades

at the end of the chrome rainbow

a …

CRAZY CRAZY

September 28, 2016 – 7:20 am | One Comment

CRAZY CRAZY
by Marc Carver
There are a pair of pants on top of the small roof next to my toilet.
I know because I threw them there.
Sometimes people walk by
Talking about them
Like …

must be the devil

September 26, 2016 – 7:33 am | 2 Comments

Coefficient of relationship
By Halifax
must be the devil
that slices babies off
the cord that attaches
mother to their bellies
must be the devil
that cuts the kids free
from the carrot and stick
routine their family plays
must …

Carl and I

September 24, 2016 – 5:53 am | One Comment

Carl and I
by Travis Catsull
We were waiting for Carl
Or at least that’s what I called him
Carl arrived and told us we were all fired
Said he had to get back
As we …

3rd Through 6th Grade

September 22, 2016 – 8:52 am | One Comment

3rd Through 6th Grade
by Jones LM

Mrs. Swails was fat and mean.
Mrs. Hartman was thin and sweet.
Mrs. Powers, I can only recall her name.
Mrs. McFarland  was my sixth grade teacher.

She looked like Rita Hayworth.
She combed my hair for …

Saginaw

September 20, 2016 – 5:49 pm | One Comment

Saginaw
by James Diaz

There was something I meant to tell you
something it took me years to figure out
how the body can get lost in the spaces of the spirit
how your own …

Book Review of Encarnita’s Journey

September 19, 2016 – 5:49 am | One Comment

Encarnita’s Journey by Joan Lingard
Review by Ben Macnair
Alison and Busby
7 out of 10
Joan Lingard is one of those writers with a considerable body of work, who just gets on with …

BORDER CHANT FOR THE WAYWARD

September 17, 2016 – 6:04 am | 2 Comments

BORDER CHANT FOR THE WAYWARD
by Matthew Phillips
Passport photos and foil-flecked pinwheels, hot exhaust splashing breath
against taco vendors and a German Shepard (well-trained, I imagine)—three
spins of the clock, a half-full bottle …

Elegy for a Dead Labrador

September 15, 2016 – 7:33 am | 2 Comments

Elegy for a Dead Labrador
by Lars Gustafsson
Here there may be, in the midst of summer,
a few days when suddenly it’s fall.
Thrushes sing on a sharper note.
The rocks stand determined out …

I know a man

September 13, 2016 – 5:40 am | 2 Comments

I know a man
by Dirk Michener
I know a man who, when in the water, is afraid of fish touching his skin
I know a man who, when walking, always looks down …

Settler’s Creek

September 11, 2016 – 10:41 am | One Comment

Settler’s Creek
by K Harvey
You’d been gone four months by then,
but we brought you along anyway.
On my back, you rested
riding inside a wooden box.
The idea was to lay you gently
at the …

Bodies are piling up.

September 9, 2016 – 8:36 am | One Comment

Bodies are piling up
by Smokey Farris
Bodies are piling up.
Perhaps Dirk would have a mishap.
James may like to hack me up with
A chainsaw, in a game of
Pass the hot potato.
Nothing is …

The Fishermen at Guasti Park

September 7, 2016 – 5:05 am | One Comment

The Fishermen at Guasti Park
by Maurya Simon
In the first days of summer
the three elms, those slightly
opened fans, unfold
their shadows across the river.
Two dogs arrive exhausted,
tongues dripping, and settle
down near the …

Labor Day

September 5, 2016 – 7:50 am | One Comment

Labor Day
by Joseph Millar
Even the bosses are sleeping late
in the dusty light of September.
The parking lot’s empty and no one cares.
No one unloads a ladder, steps on the gas
or starts …

And We Are Hiding Now

September 4, 2016 – 7:54 am | One Comment

And We Are Hiding Now
by Natalie Crick
For some time they sat in the cornfield
And spoke like dull mice
About what would be done.
When the sun, a ruined fruit
Ripped the dilute garden …

Typing

September 2, 2016 – 6:31 am | One Comment

Typing
by Kie Borsden
While no minute can last forever,
(there is always one in each folded hour
to lend itself to me, and seamlessly
allow to be forgotten in the toll.
Where keystrokes force their …

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