If I’d known Robert Mueller lived in the neighborhood, my wife, Kat, and I would never have bought this place. Seduced by the real estate agent, who told us that this quiet cul-de-sac was populated by a “bunch of bureaucrats and lawyers” I thought I’d found hog heaven. As a writer, I need peace and …
When I realized the thing might be chasing me, I ducked into a small courtyard. The light was dim. A sticky smell sweetened the air. It wasn’t long before it rolled right by without paying me any attention. Yep, exactly. But it wasn’t just any donut. I mean, yes and no. Your basic chocolate glazed, …
fourth floor balcony // a pair of redwood hanging baskets // in June two wild doves flew in // and built a nest in one basket // in which mama laid her eggs // the apartment tenant forgot about her once // while watering the plants // only to have her emerge screeching // wings …
If I told them everything, I think the birdswould tut, sympathy coating every titter, claiming that the world would be betteroff had I succeeded the first, the second, the eleventh time I triedTo rid this monster of its next second — its reflectionin a noose, its remembrance painted in a yellow CAUTION tape begging “Active Scene of Crime …
The vultures on the riverbank pay me no mind. I’m mobile flesh and my height barely equals their wingspan. Neither treat nor threat, I don’t deserve their attention. Vultures are carrion eaters, feasting upon carcasses that litter the land. They like their meals dead, slightly tenderized, and ideally herbivorous. These vultures are gathered on the …
Continue reading “A Blood of Bottles” By Deborah-Zenha Adams
“I know what you’re thinking — I don’t belong here,” Sam speaks to the portrait above the bed as though the woman depicted in it is the central antagonist in his life’s story. She could be a passive-aggressive aunt, or a confrontational spouse he needs some time away from. “You want me to leave? Well, I …
Continue reading “Playing Chicken Eating Crow” By Janie Kronk
Waiting for the city to be alive again. Staring at the clock, sitting at the window, watching only empty things take the place of the crowds. A taxi, is that a taxi? No passengers, though. Oh, another car, but just one. No line at Starbucks, no seats on the train to fight for, no MetroCard …
Continue reading “The City is Different” By Maureen Mancini Amaturo
Smitty runs a small operation. Not quite a commercial fishing boat like some of the others based along the dock that go out for days at a time. It’d been him and Old Charlie for the longest time. But Old Charlie’s rheumatism had gotten really bad and he’s known in town as a pretty miserable …
thwarted by typhoons & no ferryto Aka Island till maybe tomorrowwe rent a car & driveto the Former JapaneseNavy UndergroundHeadquarters — Okinawa meansrope over the sea — hacked deep in the hill in ’44 by soldierswith pickaxes & hoes & ropebaskets for haulingthe dirt to the surface,450 meters & notoilets & now here comes the Typhoon of …
Continue reading “taken to private areas & harmed” By Jason Emde
In my silent meditation, hushed words quiver and mutter, begging for release; to be unleashed from their confines —rattling their chains in a crescendothat cannot be left unforeseen or unheard. I bend my head to these words. The trees prostrate themselves before the figure that is formed. The date is chewed and shared with the …
Burnt Pine 