Cathy Wittmeyer
Grandpa lived on the mauve velour sofa
Saturdays. His stint at the mill wore him
down like his imprint in the cushions under
the beer cans stuffed with cigarette butts
Read MoreKirsten Abel
One day in April my sister walked out
of the Wichita Mountains and into
my head.
Read MoreTyler Jacobs
There is the clanging of a bell somewhere
in the darkness. This refines how they teach
us to find God. Imagine what we don’t hear:
Read MoreBen Sloan
Safety strap cinched diagonally across his chest,
head lolling sideways, eyes shut, the picture here
is of someone in a deep alcohol-induced sleep.
Stephanie Angelini
headline of the Boston Globe
I think of her
speaking to herself in Russian
her son propping up his salt and pepper temple
on the edge of the upright piano
left in the hall between the bathrooms
and the cafeteria
Read MoreMatthew Andrews
You know how when you lift up a large rock
and chuck it over a bridge it makes that strange
sound, like its inhaling noise rather than projecting
Read MoreVasantha Sambamurti
A raw half cup of rice
incubated for 23 minutes:
Its water rises in flaccid grey bubbles and
whispers secrets to itself –
probably about the stink I’m making.
Read MoreDevon Balwit
Teaching, I see my face, a sheet someone forgot
to straighten after a morning of lovemaking, a backdrop
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