By Elaine Verdill Not quite Pompeii or Vesuvius erupting but the smoke pours across the valley with the same dense intensity, all green to gray and the sunlight disappears It’s not Mt. St. Helens again, no ash on the ground, but motes in the...
By Jenn Powers he cleans his fingernails with a knife & cooks bone soup fresh kill from the forest blood flecks mud-caked construction boots late afternoon light purple now cools the surface of work benches ...
By Anne Fox Like Simone de Beauvoir, I have compared housework to the torture of Sisyphus. Yet once in a while, when an afternoon turns golden, I remember the outcome of an irresistible impulse. Despite my many years of kinship with a clothes dryer, long...
By Heather Graham Those nicks were just normalcy, and burns a bargaining plea for a life that tucked truth away behind hollowed apathy. Hanging hope upon the rope of ambient ambition, she washed out in the white sounds of lack of recognition....
By Charnjit Gill Broken I’m proud of being broken Only those brave enough to take something apart will ever understand how the pieces go together Because when you build yourself again—it will be better Better at handling pressure Because you...
