• Peter Krumbach ~ Five Pieces

    The Word Problem Effect

    When a rain­drop begins to descend from the height of one mile over York, Pennsylvania, it is four o’clock in the after­noon. The drop is gray blue, par­tial­ly magen­ta. At the same time in Lexington, Kentucky, train A leaves the sta­tion head­ing west. –more

  • Amanda McIlveen ~ Poems


    Our tongues ring
    like bells, your
    fin­gers groan up
    the back of my

    We fill this
    space with a
    lot of things


    your point­ed feet
    the bridge of your mouth
    for­tune cookies

    the way I escape
    death each



    I found you cry­ing in a –more

  • Julia Tausch ~ Kinsley and Charlie

    This sto­ry is inspired by and named for the daugh­ters of Amanda Stanton, Minor Star of Bachelor Nation, Year 2016


    Our names are Kinsley and Charlie. We are wait­ing for our moth­er to come home.

    In Los Angeles, in a man­sion, our moth­er is falling in love –more

  • Frankie McMillan ~ Three Prose Poems

    What baby wants

    We got him a rock­ing horse but our baby com­plained it was made of wood and it wasn’t very nice for the tree, and we tried to explain how one thing always dis­places anoth­er, but our baby was hav­ing none of it. He lay in my wife’s arms, a tiny frown –more

  • Crow Jonah Norlander ~ Hairstyle Eras

    Her hus­band nev­er dis­suad­ed her, though he didn’t love every look. Annually, there’d be a new ’do—different lengths, tex­tures, col­ors, and shapes. Twenty years in, she got dras­tic and asked, Should I cut it all off? Yes, he said with­out hes­i­ta­tion, –more

  • Meg Pokrass & Jeff Friedman ~ Three Short Pieces

    Out of Touch

    He touched the win­dow, and the win­dow dis­solved. A hum­ming­bird hov­ered, star­ing into his eyes, then flew away. A bee bounced off his cheek, and a fly cir­cled his head. He caught it, but when he opened his hand, the fly was gone. He picked up a glass –more

  • Steve Lambert ~ A Minor Character

    You got­ta love the Sharon Lipschutzes of the world,” says James.  “You real­ly do.”

    Rachel turns the page of her book and looks over at her hus­band.  “Sharon Lipschutz?”  She squints at the cov­er of his book even though she already knows –more

  • S. S. Mandani ~ This Is a Stickup Story

    Twenty-two grams in. Thirty-four grams out.

    Shot for shot for shot.

    I tweak the dial, get­ting close to the per­fect grind.

    This ain’t no mocha hut. Man, this is a legit cof­fee shop,” yells the barista from the morn­ing shift. He’s con­vinc­ing him­self –more

  • Kip Knott ~ Outswimming Monsters

    Long before Callum ever took his first step into the murky waters of Loch Ness, he knew what lurked below. Callum’s moth­er had always been fas­ci­nat­ed with the idea of undis­cov­ered crea­tures liv­ing among us. And because of her proud Scottish her­itage, –more

  • Timothy Boudreau ~ We Dream, We See Dragonflies

    Green & Blue

    Two insects thin-limbed as grasshop­pers with but­ter­fly wings, one spring­time green, one fairy­tale blue, flut­ter, flick­er, land on your fin­gers in the sun-spilled kitchen. You stand beside the win­dow with the insects on your fin­gers. –more

  • Pat Foran ~ Engelbert Humperdinck

    On a Wednesday morn­ing in the loop that is this world with­out end, Engelbert Humperdinck cuts him­self shav­ing. Above the Adam’s Apple.

    I bleed, he says to the mir­ror as the trick­le makes its way to the notch of his neck. Who knew?

    The TV voice from –more

  • Nora McGann ~ My Own Grandmother’s Funeral

    When my own grand­moth­er died I went on vaca­tion in Florida. But when your grand­moth­er died I went to her funer­al. I didn’t real­ly know my own grand­moth­er, nor did I know yours that well. But I –more

  • Nancy Byrne Iannucci ~ Cavorarell

    When I was a lit­tle girl my father took me back
    to his home­land, a lit­tle vil­lage in Italy high on
    a moun­tain­top called Durazzano. Guarda tutte
    le arance! my father said, as we snaked up the
    moun­tain in what –more

  • Diane Webster ~ Four Poems

    Into the Whole

    During moon­light pond toughens
    against freez­ing temperatures
    until morn­ing sun caress­es softness
    from sur­face, and ducks paddle
    paths across slush
    like jet streaks span­ning blue sky
    until each dis­si­pates into whole.



    Grasshopper clings
    to my car’s –more

  • Kathryn Kulpa ~ Fire Season

    Kristy’s moth­er bought the super­mar­ket check­out mag­a­zines, the ones you’d pick up, maybe, if the line was mov­ing slow­ly enough. Top 10 Tips to Get Summer Skinny!, they would say, or some ancient scan­dal with Elvis or Marilyn Monroe and NOW IT CAN –more