Jeffrey Morgan There’s a barn owl that nests somewhere on our street. Reports differ. I’ve named her Ghost Face Junior and will correct people. Imagine her eyes dark marbles in the...
Hunt Hawkins The elevator opens on the 19th floorto a room full of hay, bleating sheep and goats,a loose rooster looking for grain.Through the windows we see the bright Palisadesand in the haze the...
Kira K Homsher Two shirtless teenage boysPlay ball across the street.They dart in and out of my little square of vision,Casting long evening shadows downThe sidewalk. Oh, one of them has dropped The...
Aimee Wright Clow Three toes fall over the line, severed at just the right place so thefoot does not bleed. The foot walks away and the toes becomeseeds, slowly wriggling into the mud-line where they...
David Rock Winner of the Greg Grummer 2021 Poetry Contest The friction of experience— a little something heavyto carry around in a pillow case to remind us that our motherembroidered her blossomsat...
Benjamin Niespodziany Runner up for the 2021 Greg Grummer Poetry Contest The twins live in an old house with a stick that speaks three tongues. Atop the stick there sits a shifting egg. It rots and...
W. Todd Kaneko My grandmother once fed meclementines in the living roomwhile she spoke with my father, words in Japanese droppinglike spiders from her lips, scurryingacross the carpet and into...
W. Todd Kaneko I watch my father crawlon the ceiling tonight, moving like a bat in the stalactites, a wishin the form of a man clingingto the plaster. I watch someoneelse’s father slither up the...
W. Todd Kaneko Art by Herlinde Spahr We will walk down to the beachwhere it’s always night, where the fish open themselvesand lay their guts across the stones, the fish we caught on the lineand the...
