Category Archive: 16: September 2018

Featured Artist — Vincenzo Amicone

  “The Glass of Wine” Tribute to Johannes Vermeer Oil on Canvas, 75 x 65 cm 2016 To give meaning to his “compressed” or “wavy” works, Amicone says we must leap into the… Continue reading

Because we cannot know — LeeAnn Pickrell

Because we cannot know, we keep walking, keep getting up each morning, drinking coffee. Because we cannot know, I’m drinking coffee that morning in Thailand, not on the beach but just off, because… Continue reading

Two Prose Poems — Ann Stewart McBee

Centrifugal Stain My cat bit a tick that had lodged itself in her tail, breaking the exoskeleton with such force that the blood made a rapidly curving arc that spun into discs. Its… Continue reading

Winter: Welcome When He Goes — Brooke Larson

In early summer I woke up in bed with a spanking new brain. I had just come back to Arizona from Utah, a land where spring is too chicken to push back against… Continue reading

Animalia — K. S. Phillips

Foreword   Animalia, a fragmented epic of rhymed verse in 124 lines, is all that remains of the lost masterpiece of Coleridge McClintock Eng, navigator and poet aboard the Mischief, Lord Alfred Russell… Continue reading

Watercolor and Chinese Ink — Lindsay Erdman

  Click Images to Enlarge     *** Lindsay Erdman is a Toronto native who is also an educator, musician and artist. She has been developing her skills in all three of these… Continue reading

Zero Standard — Gregory Kimbrell

The eyes of carved pterodactyls shed tears of acid that eat away at their stone contours and bore holes through the marble floor tiles that reflect the cold light of the supernova. Inside… Continue reading

something I took I did not help make, but I did make this — Aimee Harrison

  *** Aimee Harrison is a poet and visual artist living in Albany, NY, where she co-runs the St. Rocco’s Reading Series. She is the managing editor of Essay Press, a founding editor… Continue reading

Sleep Dance — Jerry McGuire

First the eyelids flop, then flutter, but even this nuance depends on the body’s trip-up, desire— all the bads and goodies of the day funneled through the bedframe, pinched by sheets and covers,… Continue reading

3 Poems, 3 Photographs, from Pop. 1280 — Alex Stolis

  Leaning into the Wind Her grandmother talked of curses. Passed down generations They’re a noose and a lifeline. Handmade. A pale band on her Ring finger. Sometimes she unfolds herself. He doesn’t… Continue reading

Greeting Earth Day With a Cento — Carol Was

a drift of disorder in the air like a tuba player in a house on fire. It’s always been that way, part of the social contract to seem to be where your body… Continue reading