I remember you dancing. a tangle of slender limbs twisting and curving— the melody swirling out of idle heart strings eyes closed succumbing wild fantasies. I still dance. I'm dancing on shattered glass as I let it cut my soul and I bleed the rain that falls from these skies. I remember you, scribbling on …
Continue reading “To My 9-Year-Old Self” By Shenali Wijesinghe
It is said that Tim didn’t want to go, that he would’ve died in the waves before leaving Wanda and their twin daughters at sea. And history agrees that Wanda would have kept him below the surface if she could, where they’d lived after he fell from his fishing boat. But Tim had earth in …
Being stuck in the mud was preferable to being stuck inside. The tires spun, helpless, beneath him. Their inability to get a grip on their surroundings felt somehow comforting like he wasn’t alone in his failings. He was late for Sunday night dinner; a family tradition that was in place well before he came along. …
the corpse is Diplomatic, pickled in a Walnut womb, garnished with Pomegranate petals. eyes like a donut glazed with confection the focus is a vacuum. pallor of affection Now you smile, rusty gums and candy teeth you’ve left a cavity a wormhole I am consumed diving into your straw hair and your stale perfume six …
Continue reading “Death for You – Remarkably Supple” By Indiana Rich
Grab a ladder and peer inside the set: the second-floor window of Apt. 928, where a woman is developing a crick in her neck, her head on the raised armrest, watching Neighbors 2. Tap the window, she won't hear you. Her heart is beating faster than she's breathing. The fissured, gold lamp paints the woman …
Continue reading “Yet Another Example of Devoyeurism* in Nacogdoches, Texas” By Emily Townsend
Last guy he asked how old, 28, and he’s oh, that’s the best age, that there’s prime, but I’ve learned numbers better than that, told him maybe run it by next year, cuz some guys it’s my blues, some this smile, long legs, pure natural blonde, ain’t no song ain’t already been sung. This boy …
I. Only a moon this red could portend autumn's death. Light nests in clouds smoldering like leaves at the side of the burned street. Hours wane like candlewax as moon transcends night, the smile of Artemis tripled in the bright glass of a horned owl’s eyes. II. Alabaster crown marooned in a shroud of wool …
The cottage stands on a hill above the road, as if on watch for the arrival of Danna and Robert Eberling, in the season of crisp air and falling leaves. Half-naked trees allow a clear view to Rutherford Lake, a manmade body of water, and to the gravel road below. There is a feel of …
The outside of the Georgess Funeral Home was as somber as you would expect a funeral home to be. Appropriate black banners flew from every post so brazenly that it almost seemed to be overcompensating for the one little body inside. People climbed out of their cars and tried to put on a face of …
What childhood recollection does this drink elicit? I was seated near the end of the conference table still clutching my clear communion cup, effervescing froth dwindling on the sidewalls, when the other taste testers began to talk of reminiscent summertime picnics, ballgames and barbeques and family vacations. Sir, do you have anything you’d like to add? …
Continue reading “Question #3: Soft Drink Focus Group” By Paul Sevigny
Burnt Pine 