Crystal Pigs, by Allison Brice
I took my breakup quietly, like a pitiful February rain with no lightning.
Changing Hearts, by David Watts
I heard for the second time / the news of his heart transplant, / details like a post card from a foreign country
by Carla Ferreira
They say in Avignon people dance on the bridge / that was either unfinished or fell apart— / no one remembers those folk stories anymore.
by Samantha Storey
Of all the images to come out of Saigon, your photo of the naked girl running toward the camera is the iconic one.
by Brett Garcia Rose
Here are the rules: You must begin every sentence or phrase with a vowel. Any word beginning with a consonant is considered high risk and must be preceded without pause by a vowel ending in a higher tonality.
by Gail C. DiMaggio
Another Monday in another February and the streets outside / are shiny with sleet, speckled with litter. Everything / diminishes—sumac and elm, Dad’s old Buick. Lust.
by Lisa Pellegrini
Before he was a seagull / he was the bed of the ocean / its stronghold and place of / penance, a tenderfoot of sorts.
by Timothy Walsh
From where I sit, the mirror on the opposite wall / shows the outside world / through the window behind me.
by Ian Hilgendorf
I doodled your name a thousand times a day. Even before I seen you, I knew you was made like on a potting wheel, formed together by the fires of my womb.
by Matthew J. Robinson
Although we died the moment we met, / we believed we could shun nothingness / by getting married, act as a paradigm / for those just beyond giving up.
by Frank Scozzari
Mowambi was breathing hard, panting like a wild animal, his leathery face wincing in the hot African sun. He had been hit cleanly through the side, the wound causing numbness in his abdomen.
by Robert Wexelblatt
You will appreciate that the title of my lecture is ironic. As yet, there has been no last philosopher, nor do I think there is likely to be one.