Sculpting the Desert
by Robert S. King
Even in desert sun no scales crack through / your skin of almost pure light. / Your tracks do not hurry around themselves / like a twisted puzzle.
Choose Me
by Erica Orloff
I read an interview with a Buddhist holy man in which he said a miscarriage is a sign that the soul of that baby-to-be had a change of heart, perhaps was not ready to be reborn.
At Least One Point
Jim Tilley
My father never settled for clumsy solutions, / some leap of insight always required, / a transformation to an equivalent problem / easy to solve.
The Year Nobody Died
by David Jauss
It was March before anyone noticed. The first was Merlene Svensgard, whose husband Al had died on New Year’s Eve while he and Merlene were counting down the final seconds along with Dick Clark on TV.
Prophet of Furnaces and Dust
by David Salner
After Vietnam, he came home to fight / with the dust, went wild with the injustice, / waged war with everyone and lost.
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