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Mitch Grabois Cheryl is thirty but can’t stop picking at all the little flaws on her face She eats half of a stale peach pie over the sink the crumbs raining down onto the stainless steel...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
Rafael Ayala Paez The rain is an animal inside my body. Its skin sketches itself on to my skin and in the northern extreme of the sky I watch it being born. The rain feels musical,...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
Svetlana Kortchik Plié, jeté, plié…My technique is perfect and precise. Nothing betrays the overwhelming tension that grips me. My muscles are heavy and unresponsive, but my movements are...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
A.J. Huffman Sleepless and thinking of Van Gogh I take my left earring out. Placing it inside a box to send to a love that does not exist. Yet or ever. Probably an empty gesture full of...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
A.J. Huffman Fingers, honored in anniversary, linger in anticipatory hover over ribboned box. Does he love me? Does he love me not? They cannot stop the childishly compulsive repetitious...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
Stanley Wilkin As cold as another age, wracked with solitude, A slow start to another beginning, Unreliable cloud coats the sky And the sea repetitiously roars in, Cuffing cliffs, Pounding...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
Jeffrey Park Had to get rid of him, she said, no choice, had to be done. Was it the floppy ears? I asked. No, it wasn’t that. Was it the waggly tail? No, not the waggly tail. The sad...
Submitted: July 18, 2014
Frederick Pollack Towards the end, in Rome, in the Senate (there were still senators, though they were all Christian by then), addressing the crimes of the Bacaudae in Gaul ( – ex-slaves,...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Frederick Pollack 1 For months now, not in dreams (my dreams are all the usual pursuit) but before the pills kick in, I have been seeking the concrete- like sand beneath successive arcs of...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Frederick Pollack 1 Universal ruin doesn’t faze the zombies. They think (so to speak) a field has been cleared so they may freely assemble, demonstrate. Except for hunger, they are free...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Kev Patel Damn you grady Long time ago/you pushed me down On my skates.then held me while I cried on your Letter jacket/through binoculars I saw you Messing with the one from life science...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Kev Patel Pigs on troughs with golden snouts Nose rings of sugar and glass Puppet master syringes drip with Ruby red consciousness “How I love to hear the jaybirds sing!” my bathtub of...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Jon Steinhagen She awoke early. He slept in. She crept into the bed in which her mother and father were sleeping and sweat the sheets. He ignored his alarm because he thought it was part of...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Richard King Perkins II Their luncheon; ceremonial at best. Mother and daughter chat over French onion soup and club sandwiches, trying to find the mysterious ground that once seemed so...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Richard King Perkins II That object retrieved from the sea which might be love— quite out of place in the arid world, so that if we didn’t know better, we might call it pearl, or doubloon,...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Linda Crate i saw you running your majesty dark mane eyes of hickory body of darkest pitch you gazed at me with such startling intelligence such knowing i wanted to set you free from behind...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Clare Holman-Hobbs I’ve picked the spot Behind one and two They’ve been here a while Too loved to survive Too far to be loved How did you pass these gates? A young pilgrim Walked a lonely...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
William Cass The young woman was playing with his dog. It was a bright, sunny May morning. Mt. Juneau loomed across the Gastineau Channel, all new green. The snow on top of it was...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Linda Himot Restless, the owl hunts at night when none can see. His cries, like a dead brother, disturb my sleep, shiver me awake despite still air and heat. Prey to grief, I recite my...
Submitted: July 8, 2013
Linda Himot Perhaps I blinked or turned my head, the robins that last year came – a flock, overflowed the fountain and the lawn, sprayed rainbows of water as they bathed, have not appeared...
Submitted: July 8, 2013

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