SAM WASN'T UNHAPPY to be called back to work so soon after little Gracie’s funeral. For the past two weeks since he’d challenged the psychic that Maura brought into their house she hardly answered him when he spoke to her, hardly looked at him. His home was a lonely place and despite himself he was … Continue reading The Oracle
Time becomes a butterfly with a broken wing humming in my hands; like it, I have been subdividing myself, dotting my poems with the blood beading on my cuticles, my mind as the land left on its own, riding out the cold. This is our hard stone over downy pillow, the mint on our palms … Continue reading Phrenospasms
The dark waters teem with catfish. You might catch one by casting a line and letting it flow downstream, the hook tumbling with the current, hoping one gifts you with a bite before the spool reaches its conclusion. This is the manifest of our destiny: to sponge water from the mountains and cut scars into … Continue reading Aqueduct
IF HE POSITIONS his head perfectly, it’ll align with the drops of water streaming down his head and ears so he can’t hear. He becomes born again, without hearing. Instead: vibrations that soothe and shut things out. Long showers have always been his “thing.” Letting them whisk him away. Fleeing stupidity-riddled reality tidbits that munch … Continue reading Painkillers
THE MEXICAN REVOLUTION raged. Alejandro fled to Texas. He drank tequila. He bemoaned the fact that tequila, once cheap, now cost dearly. He became a citizen in a land in which he was a stranger, but what else can a stranger do?
A square-shouldered steelworker in a hospital gown, pale as pearl, waddles the hallway pushing an IV pole on wheels, holding it firm as a handshake. His heart is beating in a cage, swelled like a sponge, vitals through the roof. Even though his modern watch doesn’t tick, he can feel his time slipping away, irretrievable … Continue reading Getting Straight
All trees are remarkable things. However, just yesterday I noticed a tree of such perfect form, it just deserves to have two people realize they have just fallen in love in the cool shade of its sweeping green canopy. — ANDY PERRIN Andy Perrin is a writer/photographer/cyclist/teacher (not necessarily in that order), from southern Rhode … Continue reading A Tree Of Such Perfect Form
The hellcats above the ceiling remain warm and busy. But also miffed about firecrackers at dawn. I’ve been bad and good and bad and good and so bad I wanted to die, so good mothers started a charity. Listen, no one has heaven cornered. One day, the kitties will fall through and, appropriately, eat me. … Continue reading Acceptance
You levitate with guilt because you ironed a man’s collars in place of his mother. Pressed yourself into a neat pleat, removing the septum ring, growing out the side shave at his demand. So concerned with how you’ve damaged your daughter by what she has seen. You want to talk about epigenetics? The compulsion to … Continue reading Gaia Talks Back
This winter I’m trying to find satisfaction in scratching my back on the corner of the fireplace that I can’t repay. A solid outline could solve all my problems but out in the cold first I must learn to be disciplined enough to leave the skin on the bear. I’m calibrating this flaky disgorge; staplers … Continue reading Snow Sticks Around