~~~Waves by John C. Kojak
Here you are again…my love Laying astride my salty shores Giggling, as a thousand Of my tiny tongues lap at you toes Laughing, as my foamy froth caresses your feet Gasping, as…
Issue
Issue #2
Page 5 of 6
Radio Free by Michael Kemp
Heather’s skirt laid across her stomach, her panties balled up on the floor of the student radio station. Henry’s jeans and boxers at his ankles stopped by his sneakers. “What if someone…
Dreams Past the Length of Her Two Leather Shoes by Nikki Carr
Vintage pitch fork photographs, crying for relief as she baled hay, always conjured up pale childhood memories. The grange, the fetus of her mother’s womb carried contrived comfort to the drudgery and…
Lost in Quicksand by Nikki Carr
You’re lost; who you are? All I have are memories of laughter, song and stories shared while baking cookies with Mom. Playing dress up, games, prayer, all the things we found comforting…
BFF Jenny by Nikki Carr
I. Public Persona She had the perfect blend of sable, soft as silk, hair floating behind big, billowing clouds at sunset. Her skin, free of wrinkles caused by age and worry. Her…
Spin Cycle by Nikki Carr
I grow weary of your soiled jeans, shirts and shoes piled high to the tops of my lid, trying to maintain an even temperature, though my quiet calm keeps me on the…
What You’ve Missed So Far by GF Boyer
-- for my father Peonies. Full moon. Starry night in spring. A splash of shadow blackening the grass. Summer heat. Cicadas in the trees. Fireflies rising from the lawn like wandering stars.…
Trimming the Wandering Jew by GF Boyer
Extravagant purple and green overspill the clay pot and table, threaten to engulf us with wanderlust. Late afternoon sunlight ignites leaves to luminous violet. I come, wielding scissors, for the great diminishing.…
The Quick Brown Fox by GF Boyer
He jumps over a lazy dog—that's what starts the whole thing off. Now the dog's in mad pursuit, not so lazy anymore. The fox had a good head start. He's just teasing…
Breasts by GF Boyer
Heavy handbags I'd rather not carry, beckoning men I don't want to attract, intended for babies I'll never have. Back pain inflicters, cancer hostesses— I never liked them, and now even less.…
Two Wrongs by Rhonda Parrish
Lives lost, shattered, like the surface of a placid pond after being struck by a stone. The tranquil surface is disrupted by ripples of pain that go out and out and out.…
Golden Hour by Rhonda Parrish
Light turns to honey, and molten halos surround each blade of grass, and leaf on the tree. Gnats transform to flitting fairies and croaking frogs to a choir.
Sunday by Nicholas Thacker
It was complete silence. As those who uphold a culture formed on the basis of traditional values filed into coffee shops one by one. This would be the only day so many…
ArticlesThe Real Cost of Gas Depends on How You Drive
Most American drivers are feeling the pinch of higher gas prices at the pump. The US Energy Administration reports the average price of regular unleaded gas in May, 2014, to be $3.76…
HumorHypermiler Caption Contest
Sailing on Rosamond Dry Lake in the "Desert Queen" (1905) Photograph by: Pierce, C.C. (Charles C.), 1861-1946
River of Whiskey by Catfish McDaris
A curse hung in my ear, I got the bottle, poured myself a drink, lit a cigarette It didn’t make sense, some lady wanted to play, to know something about my business…
There’s No Such Thing as Friendly Fire by Catfish McDaris
He was suppose to play sax in the band, nothing fortified him to be an infantry platoon leader Nothing prepared him for the freezing temperatures of a Korean winter He was no…
Second Hand by Catfish McDaris
Hiking, wearing my brother’s hand me downs, in the Guadalupe Mountains along the Pecos River, thinking of the one that got away Dreaming of cigarette factory workers on a street in Seville…
Santa Claus is Dead by Catfish McDaris
The ghosts flew down from the clouds above the quiet Rust Belt City Dust devils dance with scurrying rats behind the rusty locked doors Alarm clocks of progress ring but no one…
Sea of Love by Catfish McDaris
She’s got the jiggle in her dynamo wiggle An eight ball monkey on her back trying to eat up her mind While the guitars wept Howling Wolf, Leadbelly and the Mississippi blues…