Maybe it happened like you thought
or maybe you just gathered memories
like a bouquet of shards: glass, plastic,
stone—strewn and demolition-dusted.
Maybe it happened like you thought
or maybe you just gathered memories
like a bouquet of shards: glass, plastic,
stone—strewn and demolition-dusted.
We entered Yellowstone, and you gaped
at charred tree trunks,
where acre after acre of still-scarred land
had burned six years before.
by Cortney Davis –December 21, 2020 Tonight the air had the scent of earth, of dust,like old books in a sunlit library rarely used. We drove out to an overlook…
by Jody Collins Dust echoes with his not-voice,the fingered sentence setting her free.Onlookers speechless, he bendsagain to slice truth in the dirt.His body unfolds, meets her gaze,crowd vainly listens behind…
by Jenna K. Funkhouser An east wind, she might have thought as she splayed the wooden beams and divided their garments Brushed aside the hammer and…
by Bethany Getz When my twin brother Nathan and I were eight, he asked my parents if he could play recreational soccer. After the first practice, he asked where were…
by Jeff Gundy Only a few of us ever need to whistle Vivaldi to reassurethe nervous suburbanites. Some of us answer “tired old prof” when asked our true identity, or…
by Nick Conrad Crops of plenty gone in an instant, the combine’s quick harvest leaving enough still for days of grazing, snout close to earth, lips, teeth seizing the shattered…
—Cudahy Woods, 2020 by Jacob Riyeff Sleet and stiff breeze cold about the ears,the children tramp along, rejoice in chilled mudstreaming down the path and pooling in booted puddles.Mayapple stands…