Poetry


And Who Will Come for You? by Jonathan Fink

What purer way could we descend than drunk on Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, our battered...

Bossier Parish by Rachel Richardson

Can anyone tell me what happened to the cracks on the sidewalk from the air...

My Wife Teaching Me to Swim by CL Bledsoe

It’s easy to sink, to become a tumbling stone, to rely on the will of...

West Virginia vs. Extractive Industry by Doug Van Gundy

I. What They Took From Us Our land. Our lungs. Our fathers and sons. Our...

Underground by Pia Taavila

Let me wait as the crocus waits, folded, petal upon petal, the wrapped core still...

Postcard II: Palmetto and Pine by James Brock

Larry: Wasn’t scrub once a word for money? And Florida thick with scrub: palmetto and...

Moving Day by Luke Johnson

All that was left were the boxes of sermons collected in her study, thirty years...

synesthesia after anesthesia by Kathryn Kirkpatrick

waking up like a needle in a haystack afraid to be found and if found...

Hurricane in Halves by Allan Peterson

By the time half the hurricane had passed, nine candles had pooled in their saucers,...

The Cook and the Lady by David Bruzina

The cook and the lady must be more than friends. Notice he keeps glancing through...

One in the community by Nettie McDaniel

A flock of egrets twinkle like the distant stars as they fly above the golden...

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