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
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
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
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
I’m burning twenties like a kid with ants in his pants and a magnifying glass. Memories of Hendrix in a rainbow shirt glance off the refrigerator magnets in a ricochet blaze of Saturday sun between seasonal showers. In each life a senator will betray a Caesar, a song will dictate loyalty and a serious contender … Continue reading Inflation Is A Flagrant One
Blindness did not deter him from shuffling every day down the path along the Canal at Buckeye Lake to Harry's Bar for a few beers, white cane, a gift from the Lions Club, extended in front of him like a giant ant feeler. Perpetual attire consisted of shirt, pants, Romeo slippers and soiled cardigan. He … Continue reading Grandpa Mohr
Sitting here at the dining room table sun bouncing and shifting through the curtains with sleep still left in the panes — wide-eyes gaze at Farview Park. Some Du-ragged, some hooded, sagging pants with creaseless Jordans Kings and Queens spring and splash on the half court. A white tee hulks a half-moon chuck from behind … Continue reading After the Virus, Royalty Came Back to Rule the Land