The Grave – Elliot Andreopoulos
Tuesday, August 23, 2011 15:33 — 0 Comments
For Tim, the first day of school marked the beginning of nine months of perpetual misery due to relentless bullying. He was a typical outcast; overweight, shy and friendless. At the commencement of each school year he prayed the jerks would mature and leave him alone, but their routine of demoralization never changed, and sixth grade was going to be no different. He sat in class as his teacher went over the conduct rules. When the teacher’s attention was diverted to the blackboard, he took the opportunity to stand up and remove the wedgie that greeted him when he walked […]
Artist Work Statement – Douglas Collura
Tuesday, August 16, 2011 11:00 — 0 Comments
We crowded classroom of kids. We snap rubber bands and bra straps. Hurl wads of chewed paper. Get punished into hallways. Other heads lie on desks, sleep or wipe noses on wood. Conversations rumble and run. Snuck book in my lap. Steady lines, fetal beat. The teacher’s hair wrapped and tucked under itself like a bath towel. My eyes try to lift her skirt that clings to freckles above the knee. She says, “I have a vocabulary question. Anyone?†I wave my arm. “Somebody else for a change,†she says. The others slide their desks behind mine, until my head […]
Four-Ten – Ryan Collins
Tuesday, August 9, 2011 13:44 — 8 Comments
The shotgun was heavy in the boy’s hands. The pigeons in the upstairs loft stared down at him, their little white faces scrunched up against the chicken wire. The boy held his breath as he sighted down the barrel. The hawk flipped and fluttered, knocking against the tin ceiling of the barn. The pigeons shuffled, pressing harder against the chicken wire that opened from the fly pen to the inside of the barn.
Seventeen, Like At Sun Records – Chris Zappone
Tuesday, August 2, 2011 13:25 — 0 Comments
“It’s not the actual drug buying, you know?†Roy said. “It’s that time you have to spend there.†He turned and squinted at me through the thick Texas midday sun. We were on our way to Richard Kilo’s. His real name was Richard Key but because of his line of work… “I know,†I said. “That’s why we’re going now. We should be able to get there and get back to school in time.†We were going to buy a gram of crystal meth during our lunch hour. We were in high school. Being a teenager felt like being extremely […]
Sylvia’s Sleeping Coat – Travis Lafferty
Tuesday, July 26, 2011 14:27 — 0 Comments
The world outside of Sylvia’s window is screeching wildly, growing louder and louder. Freight trains come lurching towards her bedroom; great lumbering giants of industry gnashing the ground and clawing at the tracks below them, creeping towards her curtains. A soundtrack not without a choir; flocks of birds singing flat, ugly songs, devoid of melody and drenched with longing. Tangled guitar strings are the threads that wind themselves around her; some sort of awful scratchy sweater sending her to lunacy. Every phobia finds a voice, each one of them more grisly than the last. The ceiling begins falling towards her, […]
The Peace Sign – James Brantingham
Tuesday, July 19, 2011 14:12 — 1 Comment
Richard started The Craft Guild in Manitou Springs in the early ‘70s– at the tail end of the hippie days. There were several varieties of craftspeople who worked at the store; many of them were very talented people. The shop sold hand-made leather goods, brass goods, bead-work, real hand-thrown pottery, outstanding custom made gold and silver jewelry, and even clothing. The street-side display window also showed off a 12†tall carved wood peace sign—the peace sign salute with the raised two fingers, not the circle with the jet inside. It was the only item in The Craft Guild that was […]
A Fragile Dawn – Daniel Davis
Tuesday, July 12, 2011 14:08 — 0 Comments
The breaking sunlight speared through the pines, reflecting off the snow and startling my horse. I hadn’t been riding it very long—my last one was shot out from under me—and it tried to buck me, but I held tight and fought back. Wilcox watched with what may have been amusement. Perch, our employer, looked disgusted, even though he’d been the one to pick the horse for me in the first place. “Don’t mess up the tracks,” he said, spitting into the middle of the nearest footprint. As an after thought, he added, “Goddammit.” I got the horse calmed and didn’t […]
It’s Over When It’s Over – Mark Conkling
Tuesday, July 5, 2011 13:28 — 2 Comments
“I bathed him, picked him up, and he slipped right through my arms, head first,†Ruth whispered. “The thump sounded like a cantaloupe hitting the floor.†I was at Ruth’s house in La Barbaria Canyon near Santa Fe, two days after my law partners confronted me about my poor attitude. We had just finished dinner, the rain had stopped, and her 28-year-old son Billy had gone out to her Mercedes to get the groceries and the half-gallon of hearty Burgundy. As a new lawyer, I had handled her divorce two years ago, and we were friends, but her intensity and […]
Shade And Pigeon – Linda Bamber
Tuesday, June 28, 2011 14:45 — 0 Comments
A man is balancing himself on some bedroom furniture in order to hang a shade on one of her windows. She appreciates his help since she has been unable to get that shade to stay up by her own efforts. Since her husband moved out, many small things have gone unattended, although she did replace some sewage pipes in the basement. The man has spread his legs at an odd angle in order to keep his balance. He is naked, and as she doesn’t know him very well and his back is turned, she lies in bed and watches him […]
The Doctor’s Care – Leslie Greffenius
Tuesday, June 21, 2011 13:47 — 0 Comments
Dr. Albright was annoyed when his wife Muriel told him, late in the afternoon of his seventieth birthday, that their son Stuart and family would not be arriving until the evening. He’d looked forward to seeing Stuart and disliked being kept waiting under any circumstances. Still, a late arrival meant that much less time to be endured in the company of Ruth, Stuart’s fat, overbearing wife, before the couple drove into Boston, leaving their little girls for the weekend, in his care. Now it was too late even to chip at the golf course, so he sat down on the […]
The answer isn't poetry, but rather language
- Richard Kenney
