Footprints ***Linda Briskin is a writer and fine art photographer. Her creative nonfiction bends genres, makes quirky connections and highlights social justice themes—quietly. Frozen Air, an editor’s pick, was published in CNF journal… Continue reading
September smells of tomato leaves, feraland green, and despair, which leanson you with the hard slide of a hillside, toppling. Despair smells of dust.It coats your throat the way smoke from forest firesdoes.… Continue reading
INT. A WINDOWLESS ROOM. A WOMAN. HAIR A BIT UNBRUSHED. IN NEED OF A WASH. HUGS A CARDIGAN AROUND HERSELF AND SHIFTS IN HER SEAT LIKE SHE’S WAITING FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO COME… Continue reading
Boy or Girl? ***Charles J. March III is a faux-poet, quasi-writer, pseudo-musician, and counterfeit-artist currently living in California. His pieces have appeared in such places as the Chicago Tribune, L.A. Times, in the… Continue reading
I well remember one book I’d been reading,But not the title, author, or its ending,And even though I saw where it was heading,It caught me off guard with its rendering The figure of… Continue reading
I circled like a dog, flattening the grass to lie down in the shit. There was Trent, who wrote in raw the fragile hours at the canyon. Then Cash like Ajax carrying the dead:: I… Continue reading
My father polished the gold of hiswedding ring with rough sweat andcoal dust until his finger shone likean emperor’s. On her hands and knees, my mother,armed with her can of Comet,scrubbed through porcelainand… Continue reading
I do not belong here.I, do not belongBelly down against flat earth I,Splinter like sheet glassbeneath boots that crack my spine I. Do not belong.I, a feather bed to my own headMy… Continue reading
Alan stumbled in the front door, mouth gaping, sweat pooling, crotch damp. He dropped the car keys to the floor and muttered something incoherent. We’ve been here before. I prodded him to the… Continue reading
“Avalon” is an exquisite corpse composition from a group of poets in residency at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, where the video images were also taken. ***The Boiler House Poets meet every… Continue reading
At first, I didn’t realise this was a dollhouse.And I have no-one to blame but myself.Every room lacks a wall. The same wall.You should always be careful,In houses that are lacking.There is a… Continue reading
And Our Journey Began Again ***Edward Lee is an artist and writer from Ireland. His paintings and photography have been exhibited widely, while his poetry, short stories, non-fiction have been published in magazines… Continue reading
-after Seated Dress with Impression of Drapery, by Karen LaMonte Cast, sandblasted, and acid-etched.Sculpture made from translucent glass, emptyof body beneath its folds. Full-length fabric drapes beyond bended kneesto cover the suggestion of… Continue reading
Born third-generation American in New York City (the Bronx), I have been privileged to be able to move about at will in this country and never have to show papers. If Providence had… Continue reading
The words have a heaven of their own ***James Diaz (They/Them) is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger, (Indolent Books, 2018) and All Things Beautiful Are Bent (Alien Buddha, 2021) as well as the founding… Continue reading
There wasn’t any parking on Asa’s street. This happened last time too. Had there been a single parking spot, I might’ve gotten laid that night. My palm hovered over the horn, but I… Continue reading
You can’t get Kodachrome now. eBay tookmost of the equipment. Even the digitalcamera languishes in a drawer somewhere.I usually remember to carry my phone,but it isn’t the same. Traveling, I take a fewsnaps,… Continue reading
We lay on the floorin one of the tinypiano-practice rooms.We had to take whatwe could find those days.In loco parentis was the rule.She would reach up and depressa few keys every once in… Continue reading
CHARACTERSPOE – a trans woman in her 20s, quirky and light-hearted by nature, the difficulties of livingand dating as a trans woman have heightened her suspicion and vigilance.EDDIE – a cis man in… Continue reading
-on a water color, by Peggi Habets Whatever else may come,the lamplights’ frosted glowwill burn upon this empty street,trucks parked against the black curbwill never stirwith headlights shining,their signals will not blinkas if… Continue reading
