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?
Author: Kyle Newman
Sportswriter, poet, literary publisher, baseball coach.
Getting Straight
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
A Tree Of Such Perfect Form
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
Acceptance
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
Gaia Talks Back
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
Snow Sticks Around
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
El Cardón
Do not give me roses: delicate tissue-thin skin withering where strewn down wedding aisles. Petal promises arranged in crystal vases. The ferocious heat of me with you too easily swallows scarlett blooms. Give me instead a cactus. A fearless behemoth, a prickled bastion for our battered hearts. A new arm sprouting when life strays from … Continue reading El Cardón
Homecoming King
It takes a few seconds to train spiders to travel in my suitcase. I trust the bent legs will protect me from ancestral pollens, suggest a design for my next tattoo. I have faith piped in music will land this plane and the long horizon of farm folk looking up will note our chem trail … Continue reading Homecoming King
And I Never Stopped Dreaming
You dropped your backpack In my kitchen. Everything Spilled out and scattered Across the linoleum: Pencils, ChapStick, Candy wrappers And a dog-eared copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude. These became the contents Of my dreams. — J.R. BARNER J.R. Barner is a writer, teacher, and musician living … Continue reading And I Never Stopped Dreaming
What Do I Wear to My Friend’s Funeral?
I DIDN'T REPLY to Jacob’s last text message to me, but I did show up to his funeral. I’d spent the entire morning deciding what to wear. A lot of the clothes that I once wore don’t quite fit me the way they used to in high school. Is wearing black to a funeral mandatory? … Continue reading What Do I Wear to My Friend’s Funeral?