Recent Comments
- 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: July 2012
Spite and Malice, fiction by CL Bledsoe
After Tommy took the PCP, KT told him to calm down three times; each time, she made a point of standing closer and closer to the shotgun, the first, moving across the room near it, the second, with her hand … Continue reading
Mindoro, poem by Rhiannon Thorne
I was two thousand miles of cornfields away from us, hours from Mindoro, that shitty fold-out, your daddy's car and a keystone night when you sauntered in, eyes blazing from a teenage drunk, and your arms bare hanging like battle axes. I was home in … Continue reading
The Cab Knows the Way, prose by Mather Schneider
Whoever Nancy Gantry is, she lives in Bumfuck, Egypt. She’s scheduled for a 2:45 p.m. pickup. My teeth rattle as I progress down the washboard dirt road, like a zipper through the desert. No street signs, just sand, clay, caliche, … Continue reading
The Troubles, fiction by Sheldon Compton
“Raise your shirt, Mr. Mullins.” “How about I just take it off?” “That’ll be fine.” She asked him to breathe heavily three or four times, moving a stethoscope from his chest to his back and then to his chest again. The assistant was … Continue reading
Running Mule Hollow, fiction by Murray Dunlap
The roads in Mule Hollow are long and wide, unfrequented by cars, and in summer months, make for the perfect place to run. The sides of the road are flat, and a beaten path threading through wild flowers give safe … Continue reading
Snakes, poem by Denton Loving
I. My office building sits atop a den of snakes. I’m sure of it. The building edges the campus where I work. Only an overgrown horse pasture separates the manicured lawns of higher education from the woodlands of Cumberland Mountain. … Continue reading
Hillbilly Rich, essay by Jeff Kerr
Sometimes I forget how rich I am. I’m not talking about the cash in my pockets, stocks, bonds or any of that stuff. I’m talking about the stories and characters that live, breathe and wail within my blood, marrow, bone … Continue reading
Caring for Cast Iron, by Misty Skaggs
Nobody wants to hear about my everyday life anymore. Nobody wants the truth I want to offer up, even though I listen courteously to your bullshit, mindless intellectual swill spewed over organic dinners with vegan options. My small talk's not … Continue reading
