Flooding the Moon by David Dodd Lee It’s nothing, this rainunidentifiablychanging to snow on a shelf we can’t quitereach. The years, child, theyears, some old man, his hands warped into curveddoves, says, in the voiceof the boy he once was. The sky and...
Finding + Destination by David Ishaya Osu Finding i find itin a bubble i speaka shadow acrossglasses i find itwhere there is nothingbut moonskin Destination the last time wasa kiss—they ate the fruiteyes open we playmorning by earbecause even a cloudhas...
Wishbone by Georgene Smith Goodin Burrell was dead two days before we thought about Spider. Miranda was supposed to choose Burrell’s clothes for the funeral, but she chickened out like she always did when things got tough. “I’ll do it,” I said when she called, even...
he says he’s maddecent: the vapors by Justin Monson –for L I want you but the you whoto think about me I really mean is the youtell your friends about me who should know that you’re alland when I say you that matters in...
On The Fifth Rib by S Cearley S Cearley S Cearley is a former professor of philosophy and AI researcher in computer-derived writing. He currently lives eight inches above a river watching ducks, otters and herons. His chapbook “The Travesties of Plato” was...
