The Versatility of Insects and Angst
by Brett Stout I sit here night after night looking for something. I sit here night after night looking for someone. I sit here night after night looking for anything. I have a disease, a disease of loneliness and isolation. The grasp of winter depression and angst is here again. I procrastinate and make excuses. […]
by Jan Wiezorek Ms. Hinchon’s left elbow bothered her again, so she bent her arm twice before maneuvering the wiggly silver canoe toward the shore. Someone was walking along the beach in her direction, south along the lake. She could not tell how far away that someone was. Floating eastward, she paddled till the bow […]
by Timothy L. Smith When he was two, his mother started the blanket. She used the heavy needles her mother handed down to her when she was a young girl, the same needles her grandmother and her grandmother’s mother had used for their children’s blankets. She gathered the yarn from various places and markets, but always […]
by Kent Monroe My father piloted B52s for the Strategic Air Command during the height of the Cold War, and it’s a damn fine thing my mother wasn’t beside him in the cockpit, because if she was our journey to the stars would have been placed on pause for a century or three. Trust me. […]
by Ronald Gauthier “I guess the news made its way to you by now, John, but I called to let you know the decision in case you didn’t.” The voice came drumming in a monotone so dry and unpredictable that it belied its seriousness. But John, now listening with his own heart pounding and his […]
The Adventures of a Postmodern Keyhole Bandit
by Brett Stout My parents always made me go outside around noon on every Saturday afternoon. I remember it clearly, because Transformers came on at 10:30 a.m. and it was followed directly by Saved by the Bell. Every Saturday after my cartoons were over and lunch was devoured, which mainly consisted of Spaghettio’s and grilled […]
The Blanket by Timothy L. Smith
The Adventures of a Postmodern Keyhole Bandit
The Versatility of Inserts and Angst by Brett Stout
Six Pieces of Fruit by Kent Monroe
Supreme Injustice by Ronald Gauthier
Deer by Lyn Lifshin
Shiva’s Call by Marsha Temlock
Infatuation is Sometimes a Detestable Quality
U.S. of Antagonism by Brett Stout
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 The Truth about Seth and Harmonby Brian Conlon I Even though the frog-shaped orange sculpture was obviously glued together, that was the intention of the artist. It is not clear that the sculpture ever existed as a whole without the glue. The artist may have crafted each piece independently and then glued them together in order to make it appear […] |
 The Art of Forgettingby William Luvaas She was trying to remember whether her husband had died or had left her or had just gone away on business, but could not. The doctor had warned her that the drug could affect her memory. “For some,” he said, “it can be a taste of Alzheimer’s.” But, of course, she didn’t […] |
 The Tale of Pu’i Chu-Wo, From an Old Manuscriptby Robert Wexelblatt In the west of the Kingdom of Ch’in was a poor village called Rich-in-Stones. True enough, the land was hard to farm, the climate harsh, water scarce. Yet, as peasants always do, the people of Rich-in-Stones complained only among themselves while, to outsiders, they extolled the virtues of their village. Here Pu’i […] |
 Sweetly Tight Comiseratrix,.…Sadness Cultivatingby Graham Tugwell The sky is ludicrous tonight. Cloud in orange anvils slopes up to meet a purple wash, laid unbroken in powder bands across the slowly moving sky—day comes to close in brazen gaudiness. The tops of trees made livid green—all lower things made shadow and murk. Light’s last bend takes us inside, through window […] |
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