Trigger by Yves K. Morrow

If I were to raise my voice your fragile heart would shatter and tear crescents into the soles of our feet. We are actors of necessity. Our words are cold and diaphanous like an angel’s wings before death. My unsmiling mouth fills your body with contempt. Each time I approach your borders it is taken... Continue Reading →

I Remember My Father by Lynn White

I remember my father. Remember being carried high  on his shoulders when he was walking into town. I remember that I was scared. I had never been carried on shoulders before. Was there a bus strike or no money for the fare? That I don’t remember. I remember my father sitting in a chair, a... Continue Reading →

Trying, very trying by a.d. matthias

Very hard, I’m trying, very trying; apologies drip from my every pore; unbalanced, I can only clumsily trip over the mystifying vomit of images and words These eulogies for mere existence, I offer from abbey to abattoir, as they paradoxically dam my mind, yet let the rivers run rapid and true My fleeing footfalls disturb... Continue Reading →

A Year Ago Today by Tobias Maxwell

I could never pride myself with the desertion We undertook. There were no dues collected From some lonely-hearts society. You simply Left, almost mumbled your goodbye behind Your guarded tears, your foot still swollen From schlepping all over Manhattan that last night. Your visit marred by dubious points worth noting: Valentine’s Day and Central Park... Continue Reading →

Burned Bridges by David Spicer

My fiery reputation precludes me. I walk by a bookstore clerk and he frowns. I clerked in a bookstore and frowned all the time. My compulsive hobby was burning bridges. I outgrew the hobby of burning bridges. Now, I’m trying to rebuild those burned bridges. Burned bridges are impossible to rebuild. I thought of a... Continue Reading →

Dehiscence by Sanjeev Sethi

This rain this awful rain refuses to take you away. If the paroxysm of my burns doesn't pain: what else will? Sediment of soil is vitiated with the rubble of washed-up years. On and off it leaks from the scourings. It’s inconceivable for those not tied to ribbon of reciprocalities to jerk to the same twist all... Continue Reading →

My Old Man’s Breakdown by Dan Provost

I remember the look on the old man’s face when he went into a tirade about something that bruised his pride…An issue about my sister’s boyfriend. He slammed her down on the floor and ranted around the house--saying that he was going to hurt everybody. I stood up to him with a chair, screaming the... Continue Reading →

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