Living Down South in Josephine’s Mouth: Story by Shannon Ready
We are living in Josephine’s mouth. I can feel it.
Two Poems by David Lohrey
The Dutch settlers now are / largely forgotten. The Van Burens / and Roosevelts seem almost quaint
Two Poems by John Grey
Amy has a seizure right / there in the classroom, / dropping to the floor, / writhing like a fish on land.
She Gave Him Violence: Story by Chris Milam
He told her they should slide into it, start with a tender elbow or two, maybe a playful throat punch.
Two Poems by Julie Shavin
Could I remember more of childhood / or its sibling, youth, / I might know what it is about capturing beauty
Tug Hill: Fiction by R.E. Hengsterman
There’s a boy, and he does not speak. Dirty blonde and barefoot, he sits cross-legged in space. His arrival is unusual, but I have no fear.
Three Poems by Brad Garber
The brains sat in the circle, surrounded by string. I can’t tell you what they were thinking, being one of them.
The Self-Help Seeker’s Guide for the Self-Help Seeker
by Angela Kubinec
Look in any bookstore. You will see the evidence of what I call “widespread anti-depressant failure.”
Magdalena
by Mark Fitzpatrick
spike-heels scuffed from the journey through night, / sway down the bitterness of this street
Mrs. Mannerly Explains the Multi-Faceted Use of Tableware and its Social and Personal Implications
I have three sets of china that I did not select, having received them from women who lived before me.
The Grief Eater
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.
A Laugh a Minute
by Kent Oswald
A comic masterpiece? Shouldn’t there be an absolute measurement for that term?
Justice in the Weeds
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.
Ike Minus Tina
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.
Where It Will Land
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.
Lakutshon’ilanga
by Brendan Cooney
Finding dusk / and crepuscule wanting, / Shakespeare came up with gloaming.
Horoscopes for Writers — June 2017
Word counts, book sales, even romance: the only astrological guide a writer needs.
Wedding Bells
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.
Three Poems by David Lohrey
Beside the red barn / at an intersection / between today and tomorrow, / a man from Alabama plays the banjo on his knee
The Math of the Magi
by Steve Myers
When I was eleven and in the sixth grade I got into trouble because O. Henry was bad at arithmetic.
Dilemma: Patron or Partner?
by Dr. Donna Roberts
I can’t imagine a life without making art, but I’m worried about my partner.
