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...
Zebulon Huset He didn’t tell me, and I shouldn’t have been snooping—but—how much privacy should a five year-old have? Finding his post-it diary was adorable until I noticedthe wavy pages...
Lisa Huffaker Lisa Huffaker creates poetry, collage, and assemblage. She is a frequent visiting artist at the Nasher Sculpture Center, a recent C3 Visiting Artist at the Dallas Museum of Art, and...
Michelle Matthees Like a barn door wide open: there was your O. Everything else was burned away, no hair, giant puckers inward like a flattened rubber flower. In front of the train station I passed...
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...
