Monarch in Glorious Physicality
Sunday, November 6, 2011 23:23 — 2 Comments
We are delighted to announce the arrival of our debut print edition! Soon it will be available in bookstores all across Seattle, but for now you can order through our home page. If you want the full physical effect (free from digital mediation of any sort), please join us for our release party, November 20th, 8:00-11:00pm at The Pub at 3rd Place Books, 6504 20th Ave. NE (on the corner of 65th and 20th). We’ll have plenty of copies waiting (sans shipping charges). Jim Brantingham, Rebecca Hoogs, Rebecca Bridge, Jed Myers, Zac Hill, Jason Whitmarsh and Julie Larios will read their inspiring […]
Questions – Peycho Kanev
Saturday, November 5, 2011 13:02 — 0 Comments
On the street, the grizzled, bygone Time stops me and asks:
White – Vanessa Young
Thursday, November 3, 2011 17:23 — 0 Comments
Let us make no angels finding none here.
Harps & Angels – Ricky Garni
Thursday, October 20, 2011 13:28 — 0 Comments
Harpo Marx had a hat. Harpo Marx had a wig. The wig was attached to the hat. You could tap the hat and it would collapse. The hair on the wig was blond and curly. You could put the hat and the wig on a stand and you would almost have Harpo Marx. Everyone knows Harpo Marx from his hat and his wig. Some people didn’t know it was a wig. You could laugh when you see the hat, because you would think of all the funny things that Harpo Marx did in a hat with a wig. By now, […]
Five Country Haiku – Victoria Jones
Monday, October 17, 2011 13:31 — 0 Comments
Under the sprinkler A robin stalks an earthworm I pray for them both
Break-In – Jed Myers
Thursday, October 13, 2011 13:13 — 0 Comments
Lodged in the deck door jamb, that vertical
Aberfan, 1967 – Jim Brantingham
Monday, October 10, 2011 21:26 — 3 Comments
Ten months after the disaster at Abefan, I stood across the small valley and stared at the pile of coal slurry that killed 144 people—116 of them children. I tried to fathom a generation of children wiped out in just 5 minutes. A man made mountain, built over a spring, suddenly gave way burying a farmhouse and a school.
After The Raid – Gerald Solomon
Thursday, October 6, 2011 13:59 — 0 Comments
Dust, ashes, cracked glass, all that’s left from the fire.
A CHIP OFF THE OLD BLOCK – Barbara Tramonte
Monday, October 3, 2011 13:52 — 0 Comments
Every time I go to my dentist
Past The Pequea River – George Korolog
Thursday, September 29, 2011 14:45 — 0 Comments
On you, atop sun baked August skin,
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
