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August 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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GYPSIES Crowded among the sailors on Columbus’ third voyage were farmers and crossbowmen, a miner and a priest, and several convicted murderers, including two gypsy women. That...
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August 1, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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…were all wrong. I have always had a disastrous sense of style, and even when I followed Seventeen magazine like a religion, I didn’t know what would work on my slender, awkward...
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July 9, 2015 |
in Art & Photography |
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Michelle Robinson is a self-taught artist living and working in Los Angeles, California. Her work explores bold contrasts, color palettes, patterns and the female form. Her figures float...
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July 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back it was important to me and why did you take that case of car batteries I had, your last guy was right you took...
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July 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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for Nikki I met a descendant of Zebulon Pike (Pike’s Peak) in Santa Fe. She told me that she thought a blow job was when you went to the beauty salon to get your hair done¬, I...
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July 4, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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for Carry A. Nation (1846-1911) Oh, Carry Nation, she’s the one I love. Her kisses—man, what killers! Ax fits her fingers like a glove To chop down Satan’s pillars. ...
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July 3, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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i good friday heading south in a black car to an evening stations of the cross— piano, violins— on the way two buzzards sharing the bloody carcass of a...
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July 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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Cedar mulch rough on hands willow shedding leaves tiny room, thatched roof worn and weathered wooden bowl clay pot cracked and brown walls stained with children’s fingerprints dog’s fur...
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July 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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I watch the dead from my porch the way a bored person watches TV. Some drive by in fast cars; the brief glimpse of their smiles is like walking into a dark room and opening the light....
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June 29, 2015 |
in Fiction |
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When he arrived at our house, his left shoelace was untied. I remember it distinctly because other than that, his appearance was as neat as a choirboy’s. His hair was cut short, army...
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June 29, 2015 |
in Creative Nonfiction & Memoir |
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It was my mother who first heard me say it. My mother, whom time and circumstance had never allowed the luxury of the birth control pill, who had planned only one of her five children, who...
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June 28, 2015 |
in Fiction |
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She walked diagonally across the plaza, I saw her first. Julie, Jill, and I were taking a shopping break at an iron table outside the stores. Macy’s bags were smushed around the table...
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June 28, 2015 |
in Fiction |
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I stood at the front door of 2150 Skyview Place and tapped the knocker. It was an impressive house: an old, two-story brick with fat, white pillars. The door swung open. Her hair wasn’t...
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June 24, 2015 |
in Fiction |
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Edith walked into the office reception area, lowered her reading glasses, and gave both girls a look. Laurie saw herself through Edith’s eyes: small, too tight khaki mini-skirt, red hair...
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June 23, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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North: after the storm, all dust hung up in the crowded air, with his human face frozen into a dot of dust and a rising speckle of dust melted into his face to avoid this cold climate of...
[new_royalslider id="17"]
Ana Flores is a sculptor and ecologist. Her work is informed by how pla
2 Poems
Let Me Straddle Your Mind
The Crusader
Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back
it was important to me
Kwame Dawes
1
Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun
shacks, where the road loses its way
to dirt and live 
[new_royalslider id="11"]
Courtesy of the artist and Mizuma Art Gallery
"Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to lea
Junot' Diaz
and Edison, NJ
The first time we try to deliver the Gold Crown the lights are on in the house but no on
Elegy & Poem
"We are all the other."
…and find inside a picture,
of myself as a child, sitting
on a small chair, wearing overalls
an
Raphael Perez
To Alex, on turning two
Some say the Ring of Brogar
is the Circle of the Moon.
There is n
March on Washington
An Interview with Cheryl Evans
In a strange twist of what seemed
like reverse vandalism, the Graffiti
Mecca was painted over. 
Forest Gander
A Translation
Quassan Castro, poem
Grandson to Grandmother
Wynwood Walls, of Miami has been called "a Museum of the Streets."
Low like the mean dream
of Newark the sky must
have seemed to its builders.
Rickety now, unhingin
At last, the extremes
of his present methods
seemed to offer
the happiest avenues.
The strengthe
5th Limb
Poems
Poem, Knot
Poem, Look This Way
Xue Du, Poem
A woman in a black kimono dyed black hair
disappeared behind a black curtai
Poem:
Behind the War On Women
Maria Mizzotti-Gillan
Short Story
Pilar Fraile Amador
poem
Lady Haiti
David Trinidad
Landzy Theodore
Angelo Nikolopoulos
