Fiction

I have not always had my medication to protect me from epilepsy, to keep my hand steady while I handled boiling grease and kitchen

James A. Corvo

Poetry

The first art Was not art, Rather, a color line shot through the dark, No more expression Than a plea for explanation. The grandest monuments

Lucy Holden

Fiction

At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.

Carl Boon

Short Story

It was Saturday. And I love Saturdays. My friend Libby’s dad takes her to church on Saturdays. And Polly’s dad takes her to museums. And

Nora Mabie

Poetry

Floral straight jackets hiding women
It’s too pretty to get dirty.

Neth Brown

Short Story

She was suspicious that everyone in the room was melting. The man sitting at the coffee table directly in her line of sight was

Rachel Salisbury