Towers

by Rickey Rivers Jr. Her shoulder was stained with tears of another.             Leaning tower of friendship. His shoulder was stained with tears of his mother.             Leaning tower of family. Rickey Rivers Jr. was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. His poetry has appeared in Former Cactus, the Ginger Collect, Vamp Cat Magazine, Read More

Calle Neptuno, La Habana

by Ray Ball, PhD My ankle wobbles as I step                                                                on the uneven textures                                               of the street                                                               and                              sidewalks.                                     In the afternoon heat                                                                 the trash                      piled high             shimmers                                            in the intersections of                                 Centro                                                 Havana.                                                                                       A sign reads:               do                                                                                                 not                                                                                                             litter! But a man                                     tosses an Read More

Masters

by Gale Acuff When I can’t fall asleep I think about my dog, Caesar, run over long ago – thirty-two years it’s been: I spend the night at a friend’s house. My father picks me up next day, and, halfway home, at a yield sign, where Post Oak Tritt runs into Sandy Plains, Son, your dog was hit by a Read More

The Pluralist’s Dry Outer Ear

by Colin James Discipline is a line of taut bums, soliloquies for the seated. Conformation has arrived. The cart driver will be waiting at the train station gate. It is a short journey to the castle. You are expected. Introduce yourself generally. Delve into the claret. The youngest daughter may wake you in your twin bed as you sheepishly sleep Read More

Sociopathy in Starbucks

by Kristin Garth It can happen anywhere to women even in the coffee shop where you write, employees so polite you are given a Christmas card, wee tree, evergreen bright inked signatures, iced sugar cookies that they know you like. You think I have a space maybe I have to pay for, little chit-chat between the sonnets, look up, see Read More

I Just Wanted to Feel Normal

by Lamar Neal Those who were supposed to love me Walked me to death’s door, in Jesus’s name. I was a young child who couldn’t see And those prayers weren’t helping my shame. I was always a little different But no I was not made incorrectly. I didn’t care I was Heaven spent I just wanted to feel sanity. Sometimes, Read More

Elephant Pond

by Ashley Bullen-Cutting curving slats cross sorrel watersdirty replication in a surface shared with the swaying of green truncated souls stop midwayperceptions pricked to mistral conversehoary spectral splashing veteran oaks storify in squeaksrecollecting ashen anatomiesquesting elephantidae snouts little ones gawp and clapinfant hands pokingbetween vertical boardsreaching for the past Note from the author: The Elephant Pond is a lovely habitat Read More

Moveable Feast

by Ray Ball, PhD In memory of Jan During her funeral, which I could not attend, I wondered why there are so few Moveable Feasts. She told me once, while we were doing something mundane, like getting frozen yogurt at TCBY, that one of them is the day of St. Sarkis. That Christian general who marched to Antioch, but realized Read More

Cliché in Blue

by Juliette Sebock He hates cliché, so  it makes sense that we’re anything but.   No Romeo, no Juliet,  a rose is just a rose and the violets stay purple, never blue. Then again, neither are we— blue, that is.   How could I be blue when I’m standing with you?   As a matter of fact, I’m happy as a clam.   Your Read More

The quality of protecting

by Ray Ball, PhD The centertastes likecoconut,drunk as a delicacy.In the moonthe apocalypseof fruit.Inside it,the absence.They requirestrength.It seems incredible that they cancontain whateverI know.And that Iand theyare softin texture. Note from the author: This is a found poem. The original text is Jane E. Mangan’s critical edition of José de Acosta’s Natural and Moral History of the Indies. Ray Ball, Read More