the convict child
By Yuna Kang — Before the "curiosity" of fools, before the schooling of fish, before the rose grew thorns. Maybe she wasn't a convict? Maybe she wasn't stupid?
Jun 9
Nothing Left to Lose
Celia Jeffries — Rose Kennedy’s coffin was being transported up Route 3 from the Cape, followed by a couple of buses full of the Kennedy family. It was a cold day
Jun 6
Hospital Delirium
By David Obuchowski — The patient’s name is David. He’s a 45-year-old male. On December 2nd, he had a small bowel resection as well as a, and here they always
May 31
We Don't Talk About the Pandemic Anymore
By Chuck Rybak — They ebbed. We helped them. We fed the belly beef. Be well. They ebbed. The MD meted the med medly. ML, MG. Yet the temp fell
May 28
New Home
By Jan Wiezorek — Trailer, give me my new home, cuddly, as a furry animal crawling, digging itself out of a wall, animated as cockroaches. The impact of
May 25
If Peace Was A Dancer
By M. L. Lyons — Peace loves the dulcet tones and only sidesteps the goose footed, the overly rigid, but laughs with the flat-footed, the eager, the shy who
May 21
Elf and George K.O. Chaney
By Craig Kirchner — I get a phone call from The Baltimore Sun informing me of my grandfather’s posthumous induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.
May 18
BRIDGE BETWEEN
By Nina Rubinstein Alonso — The first meet-the-family-dinner was silent and awkward, silverware clicking and clacking, but afterwards Peter’s brother
May 15
Can I be more than this or that?
By James Gering — After three score years, my identity ought to be statue solid, much on show, to show, mantle-piece piled high with accomplishments,
May 13
Burying My Dead Eye
By Dr. Ivy George — It is high noon, and the South Indian sun is relentless. The morning paper, “The Hindu” has announced that the mercury will hold
May 11
Museum Relic
By Duane Anderson — My portrait may not be found in any art gallery, but instead, a picture of me can be found in a dark tavern, my nose located in the center
May 8
The Longing
By Paweł Markiewicz — Let’s go! dearest butterfly. Your blood is like an ambrosia. Your soul seems to be a pretty light eudemonia. Your tender garden is at
May 5
I am Black
By Brenda Bell-McAdams — I am Black, undeniably, but beautiful? Well, I don't know. If the beauty of blackness is more a feeling than a knowing, then today
May 2
My Life With Cars
By Bruce D Snyder — My first wife’s Uncle David owned a car dealership. A WWII combat vet, he was ‘shell-shocked,’ which showed up occasionally when
Apr 30
A memory of Whyoma, a memory of hers
By Matthew Anderson — When she was a little girl, my grandmother Whyoma carried in her small hands a dish of water and minnows. The few minnows swam
Apr 27
Rhythms of Resistance
By Robert Martin — In the gritty alleys where shadows dance, amidst the chaos, a poetic trance. In a street fight's fray, words collide, verses as weapons,
Apr 24
The Colors of Love
By Marc Audet — What is the color of your love? Is it warm pink, like moist lips right before a first kiss? Or is it the hot red you feel when you are about to lose
Apr 21
Well: The Dive She Fears
By Nkosie — If only she should let loose and dive into the well. To swim toward the toll of the wedding bell.
Apr 18
Standing on a Lonely Beach
By Birdman313 — I stand on a lonely beach looking at footprints in the sand. Thousands of miles of the Bay can be seen. It seems to stretch out
Apr 15