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July, the Great Basin – George Perreault
July, the Great Basin A season of dry lighning, namesflaring haphazardly: the Gold Fire,Rock Farm, then Canyon River;two years ago the Whaleback burnedto the edge of Eagle Lake, ephemeralshave returned, grasses, scrubs are next. They opened my sister back East, gluedup the lung, said stage four, and sowithout treatment, maybe six months –efficacious drugs? add…
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AUTO-STOP MECHANISM – Kris Hiles
AUTO-STOP MECHANISM You were a bit more Rat Pack,and your lungs were evidence –you loved to sing, you loved to drink,but you gave me that Frank Sinatra lineevery time I put a record on. The argument startedbecause I took too long to answera question. What do you want for dinner? Forgive me, I was swaying…
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When My Depression Doesn’t Lift, I Visit My Mother’s House and Let Her Take Care of Me – Claire Taylor
When My Depression Doesn’t Lift, I Visit My Mother’s House and Let Her Take Care of Me We see three toads on our walk down the mountain. They are spread out across the road, bodies flattened to paper, guts splattered in thick clumps. Do you think they all died together, I ask, but their bodies…
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Something Close To Happiness – Deborah Keenan
Something Close To Happiness for David Oppegaard, a collaboration with his short story, The Treat The killer decides he loves living during a pandemic~~~ So much death decorating the cemeteries, the hospitals, The back rooms in the homes of the poor, in all the places Old people and old soldiers are warehoused, Passing the days…
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The Baby Won’t Sleep So We Go For A Long Walk During Which You Recount The Entire Plot of Space Jam – Claire Taylor
The Baby Won’t Sleep So We Go For A Long Walk During Which You Recount The Entire Plot of Space Jam there were monstersat least that much I recallmy mind a blank slateas though I’ve birthed a new mealong with the babyboth of usoccasionally wetting our pantsdeep insidewhere they stitched me upI am burninga hot…
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Backyard Dreams – Ramesh Dohan
Backyard Dreams The front door wide opento a sky of windblown birds,silver wings bent backthe acre of grass is a sleepingswarm of locustsElla singsIn the next room without a bodyI am against the wallI turned the family portrait facedownWhen he was on meWhat he calls me is not my nameAnd I love itDamask chair beside…
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The Saint of Common Murders Makes the List – Deborah Keenan
The Saint of Common Murders Makes the List She couldn’t tell the truth. She was the queen of liars and at least ten people wanted her to die.He was cruel because it gave him pleasure. One hundred people wanted him to die.She was very old and quite a few people wanted her to die.She was just…
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[((( )))] -Kiley Hudson
[((( )))] cat tails, the river’s eyelashes. i stroke the feathered forms,for the breeze had them flirtingand i couldn’t resist. water-logged mossand the pudding movement of mud piesthat coalesce beneath your feet to fold into the old earth. angelic insectshoverto drift above the growing fish,suspendedin a thick molasses current.with a wink they move sporadic to change places on the glassy…
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Wash(ing) – Shiksha Dheda
Wash(ing) It felt as though the agony was etched or stuffed under my skin.I had to wash it.Over and over again.And again.Until it left me.Completely. The skin left.Sometimes the blood left.But never the agony. Shiksha Dheda is a South African of Indian descent. She uses writing to express her OCD and depression roller-coaster ventures. Sometimes,…
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Northridge – Brian Yapko
Northridge The evening battle augured the earthquake.I shouted, tippled and vapored intothe troubled sleep of the self-damned,despairing of our vows and the lie of identityI needed to survive you.I dreamt roughly of Michelangelo andathletes on Greek urns, until jolted awake to thecacophony of mountains disintegrating —a roar so thrilling to the eardrum and marrow itsurely…