Spring Poem

Leigh Chadwick   I’m watching the days bleed into spring. I don’t know why I used the word bleed, I hate it, the word, makes me think of school halls and schoolyards, a teacher as shield, a student as target practice, an entire classroom smoking pipe bombs as a...

Puttering

Annie Cowell   I have a head crammed with clutter; climate, covid, conflict. A flotsam of daily detritus in which my mind flounders. I need a life – belt. So, I’m learning how to putter. Once a thrill seeker, now I seek the ordinary. Breakfast is a ritual...
Issue 6: Gressive

Issue 6: Gressive

Spumanti TatterdemalionEcem Yucel Like Fred AstaireJ-T Kelly Visit me like Elizabeth didJane-Rebecca Cannarella The Girls We Were Before ThisJennifer Schomburg Kanke ParkDale Booton Dolci The BasementLuca D’Anselmi When I’m Gone From You Pat Tyrer Your...

Your Heart Holds A Violence

Kristin Garth   I know a man who spends the first day of the year in the middle of a four lane road attempting to disappear.  In his gloved hands, a pick ax swings at vehicles; both slowed, indifferent drivers speeding by might not have known what mental disorder...

Fersace

Nicole Tallman   I moved to Miami because of The Golden Girls and The Conga. True story. Versace and a job offer may have played a small role. I took a government job, so I’m wearing Fersace. That’s not a typo. I can’t afford the real Versace. At least not in...