Monthly Archives: February 2012

The Great William Gay

has died, but will not be for­got­ten. These are some well-known facts in William Gay’s offi­cial biog­ra­phy: that he lived in a cab­in in the woods, that he didn’t use email, that he worked in con­struc­tion his whole life until … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Cat Killing, fiction by James Alan Gill

Every time I tell this sto­ry, about me help­ing Char­lie McMas­ter kill a whole pas­sel of cats, peo­ple tend not to believe it.  Maybe it’s that they can’t imag­ine real peo­ple liv­ing this way, and for that I can’t blame … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Poems by Karen Weyant

She Likes to Work Grave­yard She knows that the truck dri­ver at the counter wants the pot rot, the thick pool of crust­ed cof­fee that’s been sit­ting for hours. She waits on the women off sec­ond shift at M&C Parts, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Country Music, fiction by Miriam Kotzin

The Cab­in is one of those bars that has at least three pick-up trucks parked on the side no mat­ter when, and inside it's dark and smells like beer as though a fine par­ty had gone on the night before, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Jim, fiction by William Trent Pancoast

Jim twist­ed the skin­ny trunk of his body in a fast, vio­lent jerk just as the cop grabbed the buck­le of his left Harley David­son boot. When the boot flopped off, Jim found him­self sit­ting upright, ready to jump up … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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They Shall Seek Peace, fiction by Dennis Humphrey

Destruc­tion cometh; and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none. Ezekiel 7:25 Izard Coun­ty, Arkansas Novem­ber, 1861 If Lemuel Clump had been just a lit­tle bit quick­er, he’d have known when to act just a lit­tle bit slow­er. … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Cockerel, poem by Pat Smith Ranzoni

young man you must not think of me in fer­tile terms except as we both love lan­guages for love must not think of me as the riper chick to favor for your vol­canic quakes I’m a plump old bid­dy fool­ish … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Past and Present Tenses, fiction by Misty Skaggs

The teal-green Ever­last half shirt rode up right below his rib cage to reveal a dim­ple of bel­ly but­ton that the boys I knew, had always known, would’ve been embar­rassed to show. That naked navel made my heart race when … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Last Look, poem by Daniel Ruefman

Paint peeled from the clap­board sid­ing, a house slant­i­ng sharply left; long bro­ken, the win­dows were black eyes to the soul of what was left to linger. Inside, the stove pipe hung slight­ly askew where the cast iron bel­ly once … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Crepuscular Memory, poem by Chris Joyner

Comb­ing the naked soil one coun­try morn­ing, my mam­moth Paw­paw taught me to spot an Indi­an arrow­head amidst dun rocks, beneath the wheel of crow chat­ter fill­ing pine shad­ows cast long like swords across buck­brush. Imag­ine my hands, the buck … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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