The NBA longlists
Give something a name, and suddenly it’s a thing
NBA gives Drew Barrymore the boot
No more mandatory deposit at the copyright office
Groups file suit to block the insane Texas book rating law
A generational shift at PRH
Fiction
Nonfiction
Poetry
Cafe
Flash
Resources
Dark Rum & Tonic
by Molly Fisk
Sometimes what you need is a road / house, blast of laughter and warm air pouring / out the door, where the waitresses know / your name but the customers don’t
A Capitalist Back to Nature
by Robert S. King
Here is the last forest that has never / heard the crisp snap of a dollar / or a siren louder than a crow. / Here the wind does not honor / the borders of a deed.
Rabbit Suit
by Julia Lynn Rubin
When I look at the sky, I don’t see color. The man in the rabbit suit doesn’t either. I know this because I asked him one summer, when the air smelled like burning pavement.
Five by Perchik
by Simon Perchik
This dirt still mimics sweat / lies down alongside, unsure / your lips would quiet it / though the finger that is familiar / probably is yours –could be enough
Warped Optimism
by Diane Payne
After making the one hundred mile drive with my daughter for the Breast MRI appointment, she takes off to meet an old friend who is a medical student at the hospital.
Superman
by Emile DeWeaver
A mother-of-pearl mirror-stand, rolled rugs from Damascus, and other brick-a-brac from when I went through my I’m-gay-but-proud-to-be-Syrian bullshit fill the shadows in my garage.
A College Classroom in the Month of May
by Lowell Jaeger
Silence after I call your name this morning / earns another black mark in the roll book.
Letter to Francisco
by Mark Ramirez
I wonder what it feels like to die; to feel the rhythm of your body / fall to rest as you watch your final breath dissipate, / to speak only through dreams and the grainy film of memory.
Weeding
by Art Nahill
Kneeling amidst / the camellias, roses / culling the self / sown from the cultivated / the disdained / from the highly-regarded / I’m reminded / how circumstance / defines us
Hidden in the Bone
by Jim Krosschell
Lately, as I’ve progressed from little walks around the living room to real walks around the block, the neighborhood seems to be different.
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:
Box Office Gospel
by Marissa Glover
Open Contests
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review
