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...
By Alyssa Harmon the cool breeze asking so politely to see what’s under her dress the gust of angry wind who thinks he’s entitled to the skin underneath *** Alyssa Harmon Alyssa Harmon is a junior at the University of South...
By Emily Shearer, Poetry Editor, Minerva Rising Press “It was a changeling season,” writes Rita Banerjee in “Atlantis,” just one of the many wholly immersive and well-knit poems that form her newest collection, Echo in Four Beats, released last month...
