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

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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 … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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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:  … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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 … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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