By Rachel E. Layton I was raised by a witch doctor. She taught me voodoo, and how to track down a killer by listening to his victim’s maggots. She took me to visit convents of shamans; They’d let me dig bones from owl pellets. I found a...
By Ashley Gonzalez Butterfly Hearts, Sisters of Fits and Starts, lend me your wings, those feathery things that make even shakiest voices sing. King of Brothers, lend me your crystal cutters, shining prisms of Light over lover’s skin. No sin in...
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...
Emily Lake Hansen is joining Minerva Rising Press as our new Poetry Editor. Emily is the author of the chapbook The Way the Body Had to Travel (dancing girl press, 2014). Her poetry and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Nightjar Review, Atticus Review,...
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 ...