Menu ☰

After the Rain

by Lucille Gang Shulklapper Into their thin-walled shells the snails struggle, away from juicy leaves, spray dripping with poison. Watching them inch towards death, gray in the sun, worm-like on stone pavers, the leaves forgive themselves.

Read Now

The Solitary Journey

by Chen-ou Liu ahead, two roads diverged in the dim woods the journey was long arriving at the fork once again, I chose the road less traveled déjà vu I walk it fearlessly

Read Now

Spiritual Birth

by Michal Mahgerefteh Above and around the Mercy Seat stretched wings encode His Will to the Material Universe through the ever changing horizons: the sun, the moon, the stars-at their zenith. Nevuah uses words to encompass a mark upon the forehead of men falling like rain from heaven. And I, with an array of weaving, […]

Read Now

Looking To November

by Kay Poiro Looking forward to November I offer A crisp nod to the man with The natty overcoat and back Carved in the arc of humiliation Reminds me of the man hired to sit me As a child, I anticipated his moldy smell Yellowed fingertips and pirate stories I still see him At the […]

Read Now

Sunday at the Brighton Loop

by Neal Whitman There was sleet Saturday. Summer was not over. Autumn had not turned. Ess curves take us to 8730 feet. Aspens still green are framed in white. We walk the snow-packed path that encircles Silver Lake at the Brighton Loop. At the observation deck a female mallard paddles by and leaves white tail […]

Read Now

Awakening

by Joseph Milosch What we know about the mocking bird is next to nothing. John says the bird mimics everything it hears: a chainsaw, a Jeep wrenching an iron post, the squeaking of a wooden gate. His wife says the bird mimics only the animals it hears: a feral cat, calling out its young, and […]

Read Now

Grandfather, 1900-1992

by Joseph Milosch He talked as if endearing himself to me was not the reason he taught me to drive, or taught me how to set a spark plug gap. I remember the hose under the kitchen porch. Grandfather’s thumb pulled down his bottom lip, as he rinsed out old chew, and washed his hands. […]

Read Now

Waking in a Cabin

by Joseph Milosch Waking in a cabin built for a John Wayne western, I listen to the wind blowing through the westerly window. I think of the beauty nature has passed from century to century. Walking past the movie cabins, I buy coffee and hike the Lake Shore trail. Nothing appears in the westerly sky. […]

Read Now

Twice as Long as Wide: Obelisk

by KJ Hannah Greenberg Rosemary ran her finger through the pile of clipped job announcements and twiddled the index of her atlas. The notices she’d cut from the professional newsletter were printed in blue ink. The notices she”d pinched from The Chronicle of Higher Education were printed in black. Other notices, taken from a free, […]

Read Now

Spare Rain

by Diane Payne People ducking beneath wet umbrellas, avoiding the woman’s hand reaching out from the window ledge. “Spare change?” she asks to no one in particular. “Spare rain?” a man laughs running to his car, giving the woman one last look before crawling into the driver’s seat, while the woman remains crouched, filling her […]

Read Now

Mountain Wind

by Jessica Heriot Before you feel it, you can hear it swooshing overhead Before you feel it, you can see it swaying the high branches back and forth, back and forth an amen corner in the tops of the tall trees Then you feel it when the wind scatters the leaves and jingles the chimes […]

Read Now

New Year’s Haiku

by Neal Whitman Okay, champagne bottles are in the recycle bin and the confetti has been swept. This year I thought we would go a week past New Year’s Day to celebrate Saint Distaff’s Day. No, there was no such-named saint. On January 7, the day after the twelfth day of Christmas, women in Olde […]

Read Now

Word’s Weaver for J. E.

by Oritsegbemi Emmanuel Jakpa a) Word’s Weaver for J. E These words are glassed in moon — relics of this generation, to be preserved. No more roses. These suffice a thousand bouquets. Why won’t I, these words in my palm, walk with blossom head and a smile?

Read Now

Otter Art

by joseph Milosch Stretched like a log a statue of an otter seems to smile as sea gulls walk across its side. Besides the birds, cats, kids, a few teenagers use it for a walk way. Every once in a while a shy lover rubs its head like a pet; instead, of the skilled navigator […]

Read Now

Ancestral

by Margarita Engle Descending into the land of childhood a yellow-walled town on the coast of light memory’s turbulent landing each rediscovery of time flow and place love always new.

Read Now