Three Poems by Marissa Glover

Three Poems by Marissa Glover

I don’t even know how you got published. / Of all writers in the world, you’re the worst.
Two Poems by JJ Campbell

Two Poems by JJ Campbell

all my dreams / cost more than / whatever money / i ever had in my / life
Three Poems by KG Newman

Three Poems by KG Newman

How do you feel / when driving past / the penitentiary on a winter night
Three Poems by Lynn Horton

Three Poems by Lynn Horton

Fish fall from the sky / in silvery hooks / on a subduction shore / where boats beat at dusk with hunting
Self-Portrait: Poem by Jack D. Harvey

Self-Portrait: Poem by Jack D. Harvey

Yes, that is me / on my pet pony / only two and a half years old.
Mornin Fever: Story by Bob Beach

Mornin Fever: Story by Bob Beach

The first dayshine spilled hurryish over Miz Pennypacker’s tarpaper roof and splashed the front yard like a stream of melty butter.
Let the world in all its glorious forms touch you, then write, write, write. —Lee Martin
Index for W: Growing Up XX

Index for W: Growing Up XX

by Aysia Torres
 
XX was taught that her worth was determined by how much money she earned. Are women worth less than men if they make less money?
The Great Apocalypse Hoax

The Great Apocalypse Hoax

by Tommy Dean
 
Even CNN was reporting the end of the world. There were rules, and we were about to break them.
Seconds

Seconds

by E.T. Parker
 
John the Baptist stands on the corner / of First and Shaw sporting / a pink cape and inline skates. / He holds a simple white sign: JESUS.
Emotions: Just what are they good for anyway?

Emotions: Just what are they good for anyway?

by Dr. Donna Roberts
 
A scientist friend of mine once remarked, “What is the point of all this emotion? It just gets in the way.”
Gnostic

Gnostic

by Nels Hanson
 
By night the owl attacks the crow, / day the crow the sleeping owl, ego / and shadow, shadow and ego, forever, / as long as there are owls and crows.
Designated Hitter

Designated Hitter

by Matt Forsythe
 
“Look at the bright side,” my sister told me. “You’ll always be famous.”
A Midwestern Gothic

A Midwestern Gothic

by Alec Osthoff
 
You call the drink a Tom Collins. It makes you more alert to the thin black arm hairs of the man you’re talking to. He’s a spoken word poet—Shelly introduced you, and you haven’t had sex since last spring semester.
Three Poems by Rick Lupert

Three Poems by Rick Lupert

When the synagogue told me / we’d be going to the duck pond to / cast away our sins / I thought, that’s not fair to the ducks.
With the Greatest Good in Mind

With the Greatest Good in Mind

by Jennifer Pruiett-Selby
 
I’m not comfortable telling you how much I weigh. I’m not even okay with being weighed at the doctor’s office. In fact, I’ll avoid going to the doctor altogether, if it means I won’t have to step onto the scale and brace myself.
Old Hollywood

Old Hollywood

by Alan Swyer
 
Years ago, when I was still relatively new to Los Angeles, I was walking to lunch one day with someone who would become a mentor when a distinguished-looking older man gasped. “Rod Amateau! Fuck you!”
Runaway Truck Ramp

Runaway Truck Ramp

by Michael Wade
 
His cramped right foot hurts. From holding the pedal way down where it’s never been before. He can’t let it up. He can’t let it up because if he does it means he believes this has happened.
Jealousy and Envy—The Evil Stepsisters

Jealousy and Envy—The Evil Stepsisters

by Dr. Donna Roberts
 
Think back. Have you ever celebrated a success, but had a nagging feeling that others were less than happy for you?
For Goodwill

For Goodwill

by Mary K. Hawley
 
For more than twenty years the Langs and the Turners lived side by side in wood-frame Victorians separated by the Turners’ narrow driveway, each house a mirrored replica of the other with a wide front porch and bay windows.
Learning Games

Learning Games

by Danielle Holmes
 
The library’s Saturday morning storytime was cancelled due to poor attendance. The staff had tried everything to keep it afloat.
Two Poems by Allison Collins

Two Poems by Allison Collins

That time after the Golden Hour / when the sky glows one slow chalk streak, / the horizon like flesh / pressed to a lightbulb, / I said, come with me.

Sign up for our irregular newsletter and be informed of upcoming contests. You can opt out anytime with the click of a button.

Site Map