Monthly Archives: April 2016

The road starts 896, Newark, Delaware, fiction by Timothy Gager

The road starts 896, Newark, Delaware It start­ed with Black Beau­ties but also with Pink Foot­balls. You remem­ber those, at least one of them? When you chopped them up and inhaled the burn was remark­able. Take hun­dreds of tips of … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Reckoning, fiction by Cat Pleska

It was qui­et in the old board­ing house, no where near morn­ing. Silent, dark hous­es clus­tered hard by the road. Near­by the usu­al­ly rau­cous but now silent, beer joint, the Dew Drop Inn beamed the only glow onto the street … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Blind Visions, poem by Margot Brown

The grass and once green trees are stiff and Decem­ber is frozen in all my heart’s tears. Don’t see no dif­fer­ence in stayin or goin cause I’ll always have the same fears. Wish I could start, just start walkin a new road–one that leads me … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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The Scent of a Woman, poem by Diana Rosen

(orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in Cam­roc Press Review) The scent of a woman lingers in her kitchen like her sig­na­ture sauce sim­mer­ing until it steams win­dows damp on an autumn day. Lingers in her children’s bed­rooms like her read­ing voice or mem­o­ries of ten­der kiss­es … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Apollo 11, poem by Ron Cooper

Dish­es washed and dried, Kitchen floor swept three times, Coun­ter­tops pol­ished five, Moth­er rearranges sil­ver­ware, dusts cab­i­nets. Father gets anoth­er cup of cof­fee. “Go on to bed, Martha. If Gabriel toots, it’ll wake you.” But she refolds the dishrag, Looks out the win­dow, up. A … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Baloney, poem by Thomas Alan Holmes

Baloney I. Usu­al­ly, when I com­mit to it, I’ve bought pre-pack­­aged, thick-sliced stuff that has red plas­tic cas­ing around the edge. I lay some slices down and take a table knife I can wash in the sink and cut the stuff in half, then notch … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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What These Boots are Made For, fiction by Matt Prater

Ten years and more had passed, and Joy was now a Ms. That part of it was not as hard as she’d been told; the good things in a bad man weren’t so much, she’d found, that the loss of them … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Calf, fiction by James Owens

Dad is think­ing about me and a woman, but he has for­got­ten he is doing it. The heater in the truck makes the win­dows sweat on the inside and drip in lines like cry­ing, and the lights of the cars … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Another Cycle of the Moon, poem by Christopher Reilley

Anoth­er month, rent is due, bills on the first, auto loan on the fif­teenth, four Sun­day din­ners and inter­est accrues. The rit­u­al of mik­vah; the Ortho­dox bath of fam­i­ly. Wel­fare checks come due, get your nails done, girl, social secu­ri­ty pays out on the third, … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Lovelock, poem by Michael N. Thompson

The gul­ley behind the bowl­ing alley is a grave­yard of rust­ed bicy­cle frames, soda pop bot­tles and bust­ed kites Refin­ery boys march with match­ing lunch pails and the cha­grin worn is as plain as day Most of them knocked up the girls they knew from … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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