Storm Clouds Over the State of Louisiana

Storm Clouds Over the State of Louisiana by Lindsay Attaway via flickr

Photo by Lindsay Attaway via flickr


They were sitting on the back porch. She had moved into this place the day before. He had a glass of wine in his hand. The weeds were overgrown. He was supposed to have moved in here, but he hadn’t. She was alone. Too bad, she thought. She wasn’t sure she meant it. She was tired of doing the laundry. She was sick of being nice. Her wine glass fell over in the grass. When she saw that, the pool of it sinking into the dirt, she laughed.

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disjointed: notes on healing

by Sung Yim

fistula \fis·tu·la\ an abnormal connection between organs.      I’m freshly eighteen years old. The piercer clamps my tongue with forceps and says oh, that thing’s just begging to be pierced. This discomfort is layered and hard to describe. His rubber gloves are smooth as what skin, I think, should be like. He hands me a pamphlet […]

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Of Ramadas and Monsoons

by Philip Kobylarz
Photo by Phil Scoville via Flickr

  People who collect more cars than they’ll ever need in a lifetime live in prison camps of their own design, addicted to crack or heroin or a combination of alcohol and air conditioning that leaves them listless, pale as whale bone, or blacker than highway tar, and trapped in a bleak moonbase of existence […]

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by Renee Igo
Lighnting by LonghornDave via Flickr

  In between the flash and boom of thunder, I count eleven seconds. Though it’s the middle of the night, we’re both awake, lying face-to-face closer than the four-person tent necessitates. Between the next flash and boom, I count nine seconds. Wordlessly we sit up, preparing to move outside. To wake our students, and sliding […]

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Someday They Will Both Wield Hammers

by Glenn Lyvers
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Three Poems

by Erica Goss
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When We Were Birds

by Joe Wilkins

The light shifts here, the angle lengthening through the curtained window in the back. The boy’s face, however, remains sharp and clear. Perhaps, too, there should be some rising nighttime sound: the sighs of an old house, the susurrus of a city, a gentle wind worrying the windows.

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The Absurdity of Curling the Curled

by Saeide Mirzaei
Photo by Nahid V via Flickr. Creative Commons License.

Does curly chest hair get any curlier when twisted around a forefinger? He’s stressed out again, and he’s doing it. It’s an automatic unbuttoning of his shirt’s top button, followed by a twisting of a bundle of curly chest hair pressed lightly between two fingertips. It’s a continuous twisting and untwisting. He once explained to […]

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Witch Cake

by Tammy Robacker
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