Precision
by Carol Hamilton
Scarlatti’s sheet music lies / on the floor near the piano / and a catalog for later perusal / is sprawled in full color / near the computer.
I Sent an Opossum to Preschool in Place of My Son and No One Noticed
by Steve Edwards
Last fall, after much consideration, my wife and I decided that we could no longer send our son to Sunshine Meadows Preschool.
Death Poems
by Laura Madeline Wiseman
I don’t know why death wants me or why death wakes me to press her bones against my backside. The ringing is incessant now. She has to know this.
A Supposedly Funded Thing I’ll Never Do Again: An AWP Survival Guide
by Evan Allgood
The proliferation of scarves, specs, pasty skin, and presexual tension gives the Association of Writers & Writing Programs conference a Hogwartsian feel, but with none of the magic.
Eyes of the Day
by Tim Craven
I recall as kids when our obsession would / lead us into the thick backwoods / next to the decommissioned railway / line, our pockets stuffed with ribbons
It all began around a campfire…
Beautiful language
is meant to be heard as well as read, and in fact words were vocalized eons before they were ever committed to clay or parchment. Storytelling began around campfires. We seek prose and poetry that continue the tradition.
Contributor Spotlight:
Love and Hot Chicken
by Mary Liza Hartong
Open Contests
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review