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 … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

But Pat Boone Never Lived in Bessemer, essay by Terry Barr

On the night before I entered 7th grade, my across-the-street, 9th grade neighbor Joe, while we were enjoying spareribs at our family’s annual Labor Day picnic, gave me this advice: “Be careful tomorrow. You never know who’s carrying a switchblade.” … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

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

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

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. … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

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 … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

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 … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

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 … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

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

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

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 … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

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 … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment