by Angela Kubinec
Look in any bookstore. You will see the evidence of what I call “widespread anti-depressant failure.”
by Mark Fitzpatrick
spike-heels scuffed from the journey through night, / sway down the bitterness of this street
I have three sets of china that I did not select, having received them from women who lived before me.
by Deirdre Fagan
I read it in the paper, the news about the 87-year-old man who went to bed with a bump on his head and never awoke again.
by Kent Oswald
A comic masterpiece? Shouldn’t there be an absolute measurement for that term?
by Emile DeWeaver
I admire science fiction authors for their ability to study society’s poisonous weeds and forecast the toxic futures we face should those weeds run wild.
by Alan Swyer
The first time Ike Turner told me I’d been sent to him by God, I should have known enough to bolt.
by Ann Swann
February in West Texas, the grass is scabby, mesquites thin and low. Here and there a slab of gray stone breaks the skin of the earth as though breaching for air.
by Brendan Cooney
/ and crepuscule
wanting, / Shakespeare came up with gloaming.
Word counts, book sales, even romance: the only astrological guide a writer needs.
by M. Nazar Syed
I looked down and saw my hands clenched tighter than they’d ever clenched before. A bead of sweat formed on my temple.
Beside the red barn / at an intersection / between today and tomorrow, / a man from Alabama plays the banjo on his knee
by Steve Myers
When I was eleven and in the sixth grade I got into trouble because O. Henry was bad at arithmetic.
by Dr. Donna Roberts
I can’t imagine a life without making art, but I’m worried about my partner.
by J. Edward Kruft
Joey didn’t want to come, but I told him he didn’t have a choice because this was our weekend together and this is what I had planned.