The top 10 lies authors tell themselves
Looks like Pablo Neruda was poisoned
HarperCollins union ratifies new contract
State of the strike at HarperCollins
Amazon is changing its ebook return policy
It’s the school’s loss, not Emma’s
Fiction
Nonfiction
Poetry
Cafe
Flash
Resources
The Hollow
by Kathy Fish
Their mother works hard, but the girls are unkempt and secretive, given to a layered, sarcastic wit.
This Meatless Heaven
by Anna Mantzaris
Shiitake Happens. Soy to the World. The Girl From Echinacea. The slogans were printed on heavy hemp T-shirts with vegetable dyes.
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.
Secret Friends
by Jessica Bell
I don’t know how to pray, / but I’ve seen them do it / on TV; kneeling by a bed / in nightgowns, hands woven / like secret friends.
Ink
by Erica Orloff
my grandmother has hate tattoos / carved into her arms / goose-stepping numbers marching / wrinkled, onion-paper flesh / human ash and cattle cars
The Ultimate
by Robin Becker
I’m a line-sit for the Ultimate Roller Coaster. At first, I thought the job would be depressing, everyone standing in line waiting to ride-n-die, but what I do is altruistic.
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:
Other Places, Other Times
by Robert Wexelblatt
Open Contests
Lascaux Vol 9
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review
