Despy Boutris has had writing published in Copper Nickel, American Poetry Review, TheGettysburg Review, Colorado Review, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere. Currently, she serves as poetry editor for...
Brendan Egan The pharmaceutical cocktail necessary for lethal injection being unavailable, the State had determined, pursuant to sentencing matrices, XXXXXXXXXXX should be executed by a firing squad...
Stephen Tuttle On the fourth night, Samson woke to remember he had no hair and had no eyes. He had dreamed of angels plaiting his locks into seven cords that reached a golden city and brought it...
Carolyn Oliver And the world’s the same, lessa few smashed tulips.The melting comes beforethe hyacinths I cut yesterdaybell open.The fleshiness of the flowers!As if they relish the endthe stems...
John McKernan I sometimes go to sleepWith a white umbrellaSuspended above meIts black spotlightOf shadows blanketingWhat must be calledMy Body Who needs a home?What cries for a roof? ...
John McCarthy I went to church by myself the other day after having given up on God. I swear the light falling through the stained glasslooked like your initials—it even sounded like...
David O’Connell The way bright tulips launch themselves from bulbs and nearly hyperventilate each spring. And how the fair-bound pumpkin swells like some past king announcing gross...
James Miller The priest satnext to meon the planeto Rapid City. He was suffering.Flushed cheeks, clenchedjowls. His ziplocked icehad mostly meltedby the timewe leftthe tarmac. Still,he heldthat...
Isabella Welch It was Sunday night, which, since childhood, was a night of painful malaise for Jon. It started in the morning this time, that tugging. Here you are, old, unwelcome friend, Jon...
Sneha Subramanian Kanta Every journey is a prayer. A pelagic traditionfor the traveler. The wing-field inside a cloud. Ghosts paddle in sphagnum. Fire between sunand hill. Grasslands in the afterglow...
