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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
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- LINDA MCQUARRIE-BOWERMAN on Two Poems, by Matthew Borczon
Monthly Archives: June 2014
An Open Letter to the Baby Deer I Nearly Hit Tonight by Dena Rash Guzman
The mist cold and thick, I had the high beams switched off so the brilliance wouldn’t channel in and blind me— the switchback roads wind through the woods past houses built by people with wagons drawn along by beasts with four legs just … Continue reading
Texas Never Whispers, by C.L. Bledsoe
The closer it got to Joey’s dad’s birthday, the more agitated he became, and with nothing worthwhile to do when he wasn’t at work – which was less and less often since Jerry had been cutting his hours – he … Continue reading
Toluene, by Max Sheridan
This guy I knew, he thought he could make his shit high sticking toluene up his ass. Some people know more than one guy like that. I figure you talk to enough of them you’ll hear just about anything twice. You … Continue reading
The Last Summer, by Kelly Ford
My friends would head to the pool that day. They’d show off their new boobs in their new bikinis. Point out which boys they wanted to date. Make plans without me for our upcoming sophomore year. Angela paused and spun her … Continue reading
Flight, by Mitchell Grabois
Once you have tasted flight, said Leonardo you will forever walk with your eyes turned skyward and when you are fourteen and initiated into sex by a thirty-two year old woman who lives in your parents’ hippie commune you will forever … Continue reading
Poems by Marian Veverka
After the Victims were Buried Everyone went back to the farmhouse where Friends and wives of neighbors had set out food. At first there was just the sounds of chewing and Swallowing and maybe a child piping up a few times — Everyone still conscious … Continue reading
Castoffs, by Lindsey Walker
How would this look to a cop, hanging halfway inside the unlatched window with C.J. boosting me through? It is dark inside, but I grip what I think is the short side edge of a farmhouse table, pull my knees … Continue reading
Summers in Durham, by Alana Folsom
There were too many well-marked and paved roads For it to be Small Town America. Was only wanting The antique store with the ribboned-off rocking chair In which the very Martha Washington once perched, Or just something easily identified as quaint By … Continue reading
Baptism, by Misty Skaggs
All the old men from the Beartown Church of God call me Sissy. There’s Ligey and Whirley and Johnny and my Mamaw’s cousin, who found Jesus after he beat cancer a couple years back. They’re working Men of God. They reminisce about their drinking days, and trade around … Continue reading
