Monthly Archives: March 2016

if something is beautiful, poem by Mark Hartenbach

if some­thing is beau­ti­ful it doesn’t have to say any­thing. it doesn’t have to mat­ter. it doesn’t have to work it. it doesn’t have to fit in or be sur­round­ed by com­pli­men­ta­ry esthet­ics. if some­thing is beau­ti­ful the steam ris­es … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Southern Girl, fiction by Chella Courington

Homage to Jamaica Kin­caid Don’t smoke cig­a­rettes, and if you do, nev­er smoke in the house or on a date; and by all means don’t walk while smok­ing or you’ll look trashy; don’t drink till you’re twen­­ty-one, and not much … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Honky-Tonk, poem by David Jibson

Out­side, a mer­cury vapor lamp on its tall wood­en pole throws blue fire down onto the grav­el park­ing lot below, where cow­boys rid­ing pick up trucks instead of hors­es scuf­fle with each oth­er in the shad­ows to pre­serve their hon­or. … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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September Fields, poem by Andrew Taylor

Through hedgerow gaps between trees an undu­la­tion per­haps it’s to do with colour a gold­en calm sets in at summer’s end spi­ders come in from cool­ing night air heat­ing is enter­tained flow­ers last through though the evenings don’t gath­er wood … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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DWI, poem by CL Bledsoe

They pulled Dad over on the way home from vis­it­ing us at Aunt Louise’s house where we were stay­ing while the divorce went through. His truck died, so he shut off his lights, cranked it, and flipped them back on. … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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A Trip to Town, fiction by Nick Heeb

(orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Revenge) Stan­ley Thun­der Hawk leaned back into the couch. He had just tak­en a snort of meth and the kick knocked him back against the torn uphol­stery. His heart raced and the world sped past, images blurred. … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Donkey Lady Bridge, fiction by Misti Rainwater-Lites

There weren’t any prayers or tears left. Stor­mi was brought up Bap­tist and that shit was hard to shake. She was too intense and weird and had too many god­damn ques­tions to be a Pin­ter­est mom but her heart was … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Nude with Boots, story by Tom Leins

"Same again – no ice." The bar­man glares at me. I don’t blame him. No one likes being told how to do their job. *** Slattery’s Meat Mar­ket is sit­u­at­ed in an ugly, unre­mark­able part of town. It used to … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Salute, fiction by William Trent Pancoast

I sit by a win­dow on this twen­­ty-degree-below-zero morn­ing and think what it was like for my dad and all the oth­er kids in the Ardennes try­ing to dig fox­holes in the frozen rocky ground, with oth­er kids try­ing to … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Y’all Qaeda, poem by Marcus Bales

They don't believe in women's rights          Or sci­ence data; Break­fast prayers pro­vide their heights Of thought, but only for the whites, They see them­selves as south­ern knights Who've got the Feds dead in their sights,   … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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