by Ron Gibson, Jr.
I swung the door open, turned on the light and marveled at the murky lake that now lived in our house. It must have been five foot deep.
by Mehrnoosh Torbatnejad
For the girls above or below / five foot something / For the legs so long / they tangle when we saunter / through corridors
by Diane Yannick
There is no rating low enough to compensate for the way this book has ruined my life. Whatever you do, don’t read it as it will haunt you.
by Jackleen Holton Hookway
The temperature in the Central Valley had dropped to a record low. I scraped the frost off the windshield before I drove myself to the hospital.
by Johnson Cheu
If you’ve read just about any disabled person’s blog—especially if they’ve got a “Top Ten: Don’t Do This When You See Me” list—you already know how I feel about people telling me that I inspire them.
SCENE 1: CHAFFEE RESIDENCE, Washington, D.C., February, 1857, Moving-In Day. The flat is shaping up to be a modestly upper-class Victorian residence—resplendent rugs, elegantly-shaped tables and chairs, gas lamps and a fire in the fireplace.
Dear Dr. Donna: My problem isn’t a new one but it’s new to me. In fact, when others said they had this problem I just thought they were making excuses and procrastinating.
by Jay Merill
One chilly Saturday Den goes with her mother to the Botanical Gardens. Den wants to walk in the part with the wizened tree trunks, where the grass sprouts up in clumps. Where the earth is more like grit.
by Michael Chitwood
He cradles the chicken with his right arm, holding it nested against his mid-section. He takes a booth and puts the chicken beside him on the bench seat.
by Emile DeWeaver
A poet held a workshop in San Quentin and told the class, “We shouldn’t fool ourselves. Poetry is not
going to change the world.”