The Texas book rating law is thbbt!
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
Going Once
by Allan Peterson
I believe it was either forever or an eight / no longer lazy on the page, / because things took longer after that, / had longer lifetimes, / and that was their sign in continuous curls.
Summit
by Natalie Homer
I wish the wild mint would bake its scent into my skin, / and I could drag it behind me, as if it were a train of silvery lace. / It never does, and that’s okay.
A Survey of the Sacred
by Isabella David McCaffrey
She says, “To write poetry about sacred spaces, I must understand what I mean by sacred spaces, il faut comprendre premièrement ce que je veux dire par Terre Sacrée.”
The Polar Bear
by Jennifer Givhan
What I’m asking is will watching The Discovery / Channel with my young black boy instead / of the news coverage of the riot funerals riot arrests / riot nothing changes riots be enough to keep him / from harm?
What I Imagine My Parents Did After Dinner
by Brian Fanelli
In our house, nobody ever danced, / even though my father played Elvis / or Johnny Cash from the silver / CD player that rested on the nook
Long Walk Home
by Kristene Brown
Hot summer and birds pillage garbage cans, / squabbling for scraps. / With ripped jeans and knotted hair, I follow / the unpaved road to town.
Putting Out the Trash
by Robert S. King
My socks are small trash bags, / and the street number of my house is zero. / Garbage cans are my walls on winter nights.
Ten Short Poems
by Simon Perchik
These sheep have no choice either / though even in summer / they still want to hear the truth
Traffic Jam Song #1
by David Tucker
No one understands the traffic jams in this city, / how they just spring from the ground like this / and why, when you reach the head of the line, there is / no accident
At a Truck Stop on Highway 124
by Andrea Witzke Slot
The odor of stale hotdogs coils / around this truck stop of quiet men / who sit with faces bowed, bath kits / in laps, fair-like tickets in hand.
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
