Monthly Archives: September 2015

Five Poems by Richard L. Gegick

THE OCEAN Tony’s been a cook here ever since he was placed in the renewal center over a decade ago. Twice a GED failure, he can barely read, but knows how to cook a steak, how to work hard, show … Continue reading

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The Mad Farmer’s Wife Delivers the Foal, poem by Rita Quillen

It is the turning I most remember: Just another ordinary day I woke and looked out the window. The mare stood with the colt half out of her, Membrane still completely intact. I ran like a warrior, butcher knife in … Continue reading

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Two Poems by Tiff Holland

Saltines We was all afraid of that bridge, just ropes and slats, spaces between where the crick came right up at you if you looked down at it, and Billy, that’s what we called him, after the fairy-tale, squattin’ underneath. … Continue reading

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Sweet and Clear, essay by Terry Barr

I saw her smiling at me in K-Mart, over by the jeans. She had red hair, and no matter which aisle I turned into—the Men’s grooming products, the albums, the “notions”—there she was, smiling. I don’t know if it was … Continue reading

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Transformer, fiction by Benjamin Soileau

I’m fiddling with one of those transforming monstrosities that toy companies make just to drive men like me crazy. It’s some kind of dinosaur that turns into a speedboat and I’m looking down at it, turning it this way and … Continue reading

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Triadelphia, WV, poem by Jay Sizemore

The hotel room seems damp— cold as the West Virginia sky, a certain kind of humidity left behind in the empty space that light can never fill and that only the nostrils can interpret as moisture in the atmosphere of … Continue reading

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Roulette, poem by M.S. Lyle

You move around the house, a cord attached to that spot on your back that no matter how hard you try to reach, you cannot reach. At the other end, the chamber. And you are so small; you heard the … Continue reading

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Big Red Cap, fiction by James Leary

Not so long ago there lived a young man who suffered greatly at the death of his father.  The young man, who became known as Red Cap for the old, dusty Marlboro hat he always wore, was loved by all … Continue reading

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Frogball, poem by CL Bledsoe

We couldn’t afford bats so we scavenged, broken lengths of PVC pipes, crooked sticks, hands, if that’s all we had. Likewise, instead of baseballs we used pinecones, dried cow pies, rocks. One kid started catching frogs and smacking them into … Continue reading

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not getting served at the subway inn, poetry by John Grochalski

not getting served at the subway inn ten minutes before this we were still in the hospital room watching my mother-in-law wrestle with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just something, the nurse told her to get in her stomach … Continue reading

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