Monthly Archives: April 2015

Making Art, poem by Tim Peeler

Mak­ing Art He down shift­ed the Opal from third to sec­ond As they approached the inter­sec­tion of Hook­er Road And Arling­ton Blvd, swivel­ing his neck in an instant Assess­ment as they sped on through the red light. You crazy son of a bitch, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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A Wave of the Burger, by Dale Wisely

I'm in my patrol car and I ges­ture to let a big guy, dust­ed with white paint, make a left in front of me. He's dri­ving an old pick­up bur­dened by lad­ders. There is a thick lay­er of debris on the dash­board. Cig­a­rette packs, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Two Poems, by Larry Thacker

I swim the vac­u­um  between your atoms sing along the dark mat­tered strands between galax­ies beyond imag­i­na­tion wit­ness­ing the base pat­tern of all worlds the mys­tery scripts hang­ing orna­ment­ed about your thoughts I hum under your feet with­in the val­leys of fin­ger­print ridges shrink­ing, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Indian ID, fiction by Eric Ramseier

I have this plas­tic lam­i­nat­ed card that says I'm an Indi­an.  It has my name on it, the tribe I'm from—some kind of Chero­kee, and my pic­ture.  It needs my pic­ture because I don't look like an Indi­an at all.  … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Appalachians, by GC Smith

Moun­tain folk I see them every­where. In the cities now. On the streets. In the pool rooms, bars, fight­in' clubs. Inswank hotels. Still back in the Piney woods. I see them dri­vin' pick up trucks. Dri­ving BMWs. Endur­ing peo­ple. Fight­ing for the … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Two Poems by Teisha Dawn Twomey

Wan­derun­lust I want to believe in truck stop din­ers blue­ber­ry pan­cakes, vaca­tion vil­lages on the way to nev­er ever again land. By morn­ing, I’d think any place could be home. I con­tin­ue to car­ry old key chains with me. They fail to unlock any doors … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Goosy Gus and the Cash Mob, fiction by William Trent Pancoast

(orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Revolver) Gus had acquired the name “Goosy” because of his shell shock and bat­tle fatigue from WWII and now he was no longer allowed in his daughter-in-law’s donut shop in down­town Cranston even though eat­ing donuts was … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Squeaky Wheel Gets the Nitrous Oxide, poem by Dennis Mahagin

Car­ry on, wis­dom, as if eye teeth depend­ed, floss, floss, don't let them fit you for insane. Lips make a purse, spit out the Jol­ly Ranch­er, get on your bike again. Rot­ten molars, a hail of bul­lets. My hygien­ist is buy­ing an assault … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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And Rapture, fiction by Sheldon Lee Compton

There was this time I thought Gabriel was blow­ing his horn and dive-bom­b­ing me into Hell.  Turned out it was a Mack coal truck across the road at Dale Trivette’s Truck­ing pulling onto Route 610. I was in bed and think­ing … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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