Fiction
Poetry
Godland: Sammie Jo
Sammie Jo don’t talk much. Her mother like to cut out her tongue any time she speaks up. A bone outta socket. As big as
Robert Eric Shoemaker
Poetry
Cold Lights
Outside my window there is steam
and there are lights in a skyscraper
where people sit at their desks
and the lights let them work.
Alan S. Kleiman
Fiction
You’re Never Alone
The idea of a soul mate wasn’t something I subscribed in. And his clumsiness sure as hell didn’t help. But at the age of 19, I was intrigued.
Alexander Kemp
Short Story
Comatose (or You Don’t Know Where You Are)
You wake up. Are you dead? You don’t know where you are. Look around. There is a wide dirt road framed by tall, dark pine
Psalm Pineo-Cavanaugh
Short Story
Black Shrunken Blemish
When Frances had to speak publicly, her legs shook. As a kid, she had grown faster up than she had out and she had felt
Kyra Baldwin
