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- X23Eping on Hangin’ Out at the Git and Go, poetry by Jason Ryberg
- John A Jancewicz on The Hills are Alive, essay by Anna Lea Jancewicz
- JBird on Tin Pedals, fiction by Lucas Flatt
- Jim J Wilsky on Everything is Relative, fiction by Michael Bracken
- LINDA MCQUARRIE-BOWERMAN on Two Poems, by Matthew Borczon
Monthly Archives: May 2012
The Stray Cat, fiction by CL Bledsoe
Joey had been successfully dodging Tommy, who’d had been tweaked out on homemade meth for nearly a week, until Tommy decided he’d had enough of the stray cat nosing around the house. So he told Joey to leave some tuna … Continue reading
Poems by Mather Schneider
FIRST HUNT The first night I had my driver’s license I drank a 6 pack and borrowed my mother’s car. I turned the headlights on, backed out and was about a half mile down the road when I had a collision … Continue reading
NASCAR, poem by Perry Higman
NASCAR (Pennsylvania 500 at POCONO, July, 1998) To: Governor Tom Ridge of Pennsylvania, giving a guest politician's dull monotone delivery of the command, "Gentlemen, — start — your — engines," at the start ofthe Pennsylvania 500 at Pocono – From: the young … Continue reading
Lazarus, fiction by Brenda Rose
His boy had been dead eight days when the preacher picked up the black, worn King James Bible with his name engraved in gold on the leather cover, and reinserted himself in the pulpit of the Mt. Calvary Holy Ghost … Continue reading
GOD DIDN'T GET ME NO WEED, by Mather Schneider
Me and Little John were sitting at the bus station behind the wheels of our taxi cabs. We were far, far down on the cab cue, so we wouldn't get a fare for a while. It was a depressing place to be, … Continue reading
Hill Tide, fiction by William Trent Pancoast
As Violet jostled among the church crowd and exchanged greetings, she tried to recall the sound of the spring that spurted year round from the base of the hill behind the cabin. But the voices and heat prevented her from … Continue reading
What He Asked, and How She Answered, fiction by Brian Carr
At the window, with it open, as rain sang across the land once dry, so the rain slipped in threads of current down cracks and toward the lows, the man wiped his glasses free of spray—beads that had hit the … Continue reading
poetry by G.M. Palmer
September The night sweats through the humidity, our humanity exhausted on the porch collapses from the draw of breath through the thick Autumn air. Steam and mosquitoes, blood and bile are mingling with the mist of burning crosses, churches, forests as our spirits … Continue reading
