The detective imagined the nurse shake the old man’s breath off his coat as he walked to the bus, shuttering the teak and dust world behind him. He pulled a fingertip along a blue hallway vase, brought it to his thumb, rubbed the grit.

It was cold and clammy, but then it got worse. Far worse. Any opportunity to celebrate the unity and harmony of tolerance was soon cancelled.

The End of Civilization as We Know It Question is, how many carpets did you see flying in close formation? Question is, which hand would you use If you were asked to choke yourself for the sake of civilization? The real question is, if you could

So many traps for catching female poets have been invented that it is a rare editor who ever really sees one. H.L. Mencken

Natalie blushed the vodka with an almost pointless twist of the fruit juice as I fought in my inside jacket pocket for my wallet...

We all ache for the Purple storm that’s said to Smear its finger in the one True place our soul resides On the road to delicate love Rising in the summer blood And the raw shadows Behind lust make a woman Heave in the Garden While lis

A man learns too late How small deer laugh It’s true When a man goes mad Ropes come down from the clouds He cannot be sure of anything Anything The way’s uncharmed He thinks someone else’s strange thoughts And it all seems a simple

In the morning after a cup of black coffee, she decided she was hungry and opted for the leftover egg roll and dumplings from the previous night. She looks for the chopsticks sticking out with the rest of the utensils and picks up the last of the dumplings and places it…

po-mo parchments piled high deep: / credentials earnest transcripts earned / coursework scholarships helpt buy.

From inside the baking hot car we watched our father, nervous in his face mask and gloves, step through the wooden gate into grandma's front garden. She was waiting for him, thin and lonely behind the frilled lace curtain. She held the iPad in her left hand, and she…

Sometimes, when possessed by a craving for an ornate day my very thinking becomes florid, cursive, prone to rolling my vowels – dotting my little I’s with a love heart, like an idiot who rows out in a storm.

The light on his face from a lamp Felt hat with a black band Scrunched down The nose creating a strong shadow With dark, straight eyebrows under the hat Red and orange beard Leaning forward at the café table, watching A damp curl of ha

Is that who we are as a nation, or was that day an aberration?

Amen, no more nothingness now, finally the hilarity of a band of abecedarians getting drunk on whiskey and beer. We've been in this place since 11 am, now its December in January On the toilet cubicle wall are words such as Sorry and …

It is with great sadness I announce the passing of Ann Bogle on February 28, 2023 after a brief illness. Ann was longtime contributor and editor of these pages and a champion of small press and emerging writers.I knew Ann since the late 1970's when she was an undergraduate…