Fiction

Short Story

While he sleeps I catalogue his body. When he is awake I keep my distance. While he dreams I touch and map in a

A.J. Whitaker

Poetry

In love with dismal days, he told me why: Won by dimensions, his green eyes caress Big bosomed clouds. Suggestiveness of haze Conjures up Milky

LindaAnn Loschiavo

Fiction

A Draft of the Worst Love Letter Ever Written Dearest Stacie, Dear Stacie, My Dear Fri, June 16th, 2014 Stacie, Well hello! Greetings from

Lucy Holden

Poetry

Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter

Robert Eric Shoemaker

Essays

Have you ever wanted to see a time-travelling lone wolf cop (“I’m a cop. From the future.”) crotch punch Hitler (a.k.a. Kung Führer) in an

Glen Porter

Poetry

Knows the heart ache of canaries. Hummimg bird to spilt milk No friends same dress Pearls that rarely dance Five dollar rose bouquets Without a

Neth Brown