The Smell of Yesterday by Craig Dowd

It was close to midnight when he climbed from his grave at Fifty-Ninth Street, another policy sold. The mourners were gone, only a stray cat crying outside the corner bakery that couldn’t sleep; resurrections here are old hat. Fourth Avenue was pointing to the Narrows, cold and deep. In his absence spring had graduated to […]

Brake Lights by Mike Ferguson

  Driving into town today I saw three cars that were each missing a working brake light—a bulb burnt out that needed replacement—and though I didn’t have the opportunity or inclination to tell any of them about the loss which I could see but they could not, I did become concerned how there might be […]

Starlight in You by Daniel Lind

We relax on my balcony as the night sky sings. Scars are inscribed on your parchment arms, caned by your father. I don’t want you to go home, so I offer shelter. You shake your head. That will only make your burden heavier. Darkness consumes him each night, and you have to be there to […]

the middle of classes by Keith Nunes

he’s running wildly among the weeding grasses of the frontal lobe, one minute perched on the Jericho wall then tumbling in a roll to the pins of bowling ball alleys lining the middle of classes, this heavily forested man with his singular language is dragging lone-wolf sorrows in a birthing sack, he howls over his […]

Truth is by Karen Neuberg

I lied about what I wanted. Instead I wrote a thank you note for what I got. When I tricked myself once too often, I tripped myself. And on up the stairs. To see the stars. There he kissed me. That was not a lie. Or not a lie I knew as a lie. This […]

Drowning Symphonies by Ashley Mares

This is the home we built: the one we placed on the wings of butterflies so tenderly it collapsed into their veins—the red, bloodied hope and blue from their eyes: my dreams the doorway we’d walk through. In this place, there are ravens in the walls: shadows hang from the chandelier. In this place we […]

Munch IV by Kyle Hemmings

The enemy has devised a new way to rout us: They’re setting our clocks back by means of invisible hands and remote frequencies. This means we can never be 100% sure who we were before or then. Like the enemy we try committing inflicting domestic atrocities—hacking each other’s sex lives but only coming away dry […]

Whores Are Always Melancholy by Jess Mize Review by Lydia Havens

In Whores are Always Melancholy, by Jess Mize, published by Finishing Line Press, what starts off as a narrative with a haunting, gritty film-noir feel soon becomes something more contemporary and sinister. The book begins with descriptions from a ghost-like narrator, who travels around the world and describes everything they see. They allude to jazz […]

Petty Theft by William Doreski

Writing with a pen stolen from the elegant shop in the mall, I feel tough as Pancho Villa. As the day thickens with impasto I compose unlikely rhetoric to peddle to whichever demagogue outbids the others. Meanwhile wine and cheese shops fatten for the holidays. Celebrities divorce and sue each other while draped in the […]

The Detective’s Chair (6) by Anne M. Carson

Comrade Chief Inspector Chen Cao Shanghai Police, China Comrade Chen is permeable to poetry. Ineffable feelings assail him—the waft, the glimpse—how poems unfold is how crimes. Self-professed romantic, he wishes poetic justice upon crimes. 1990s; Shanghai teeters between an open door and fear of the bourgeois West. Lit major, published modernist poet, Chen is yanked […]

How to Breathe by Jack Garrett

Her trachea: that had been sliced. As the skin of her neck was drawn tight by shaky fingers, the gristly tube was sectioned by a penknife blade, and a plastic one, ripped viciously from her little boy’s science project The Purification of Water in the back seat, was poked in, blood sucked out through grimacing […]

A Simple Postscript by C.C. Russell

The guilt that underlies that story is, of course, a different narrative than the one that you would allow to creep into the writing. The guilt that underlies that story has eaten at you for years, decades now. The guilt that underlies the story is the reason that you are writing this postscript in the […]

Contrapuntal by J.A. Pak

Playing Mozart’s sonata in F major & find myself at the third movement, which is a movement I’ve never liked and rarely play. I rarely play an entire sonata & in a mood of F major, I decided I must finish the sonata. It’s as I’d expected, and why I play it slowly [in a […]

Let Down Your Hair by Carla Kirchner

Weigh my hair—three quarters of a pound dry, one and 1/4 pound wet. Add two-pounds of large pizza plus the cardboard, peppers, extra cheese. Count the damp air burdening the trees, the strange light from the street lamps, the neighbors prying eyes as my braid coils down to the waiting delivery driver. Figure in the […]

Fabric by Carol Ellis

The shirt on the floor crumpled into a human face is nothing more than what I dropped after pulling it over my head. Pulled off in the final jerk of fabric my face lies crumpled in all that it has seen I walk away from my face the resemblance I imagine and the presence of […]

Star Fall Sans Sound by Jess Mize

sixty to seventy degrees (the blissful climate perpetuated in the city of angels) only the hint of a breeze; atavistic autumnal scent provoking awe at all the southern falls past and the warm silence of nature with some leaves ruby grapefruit red and others neon lemon butterfly with a few still as green as the […]

Harvest by Ken Poyner

Six soldiers sit with their backs to the moon, looking like six chicken legs set out for this Sunday’s afternoon family reunion dinner. Six legs from chickens raised on this very farm; chickens that came when rhythmically called; chickens that received feed from the upturned, folded apron of the plaid family matriarch. Chickens that pulled […]

Lumique by Matt Alexander

I. I emplain to the oche oche oche. In the white violet night I recite the sephel-oh sephel-ay sephelee-lee, at least till the sun corylizes. I crimp a circuit for tom borrow. At last, as the final crepuscles give way to their shinder corpuscles, I perform the diminuendo of brooboo-lit day. It is the least […]

The Prose Poem by Ethan Phibbs

This blue midnight stirs with a myriad of eyes: those islands I know not even the names of; unidentified vegetation, enigmatic wildlife, unpredictable weathers. I swear I saw a bird nest perched on the revolving head of an owl inquisitive of identity. Impending clouds collapse like an airy ocean covering the streets in a gray-blue […]