Most People Mow Their Weeds by Duane Anderson
In some neighborhoods, the home owners cut their grass, but in our neighborhood, most people mow...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
In some neighborhoods, the home owners cut their grass, but in our neighborhood, most people mow...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
They had matching lawn mowers. She mowed the front yard, and he mowed the back. It reminded me of...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Nonfiction, Subscription Content
My father’s cancer was getting worse. He and I spent Saturday together to give Elise a break...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
Over a rocket ship book, a preschooler I adore said the sky made the moon once sunrays smiled in a...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
dark cold silence fills the land bright cold stars high overhead no breath of wind is there now...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
~ For Mark, one of my first boyfriends, who committed suicide after a long struggle with...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
The bees will lead you to goodness. They will grant you mercy against wickedness. The path they...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
My dreams are littered with the echos, the flaming shards of iron that flew from the feverish...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
What is love you ask while drying dishes. is this an act of...
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Fiction, Issue #7, Subscription Content
Ernie Sherman, an eighty-year-old widower, sat on a bench near the beach in Oceanside, California....
Read MoreJun 19, 2019 | Fiction, Issue #7, Subscription Content
I probably shouldn’t have killed her. I know that now. But at the time, it felt like I had no...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Fiction, Issue #7, Nonfiction, Subscription Content
It was strategically positioned in the eaves of the attic, wedged between the rafters, yet easily...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Fiction, Issue #7, Subscription Content
The last embers died in the hearth. Charlie had been sitting there, staring for hours as the...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Fiction, Issue #7, Subscription Content
Janice was looking for something to do, something that would be worthwhile. She had tried all...
Read MoreMemories slip on the silent back of the dunes those shape-shifting sands are treacherous you see...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
By the okra and behind the lettuce and kale, There sits a structure, a persistent estate with...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
So strange to have to look down To observe something fitted for ascension– Small though you...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
this shirt with blood on the cuffs the sun just because it’s there just because it sounds like the...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
The trees quiver in the wind. They dance in fear of the night. Lightning strikes hot and blue With...
Read MoreJun 15, 2019 | Issue #7, Poetry, Subscription Content
Saturday morning, the Park and Rideis sunlight, scattered cars,skeletal lines of parking...
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