Reading Your Way into the Ocean of a Book
by Hope Coulter For the first few lines of a book you’re aware of the text, the black on cream, the building of sentences out of words. The
Before Arriving
by Sally Molini Walking to my friends’ place, I know the evening will be a series of stock visuals: Humberto tossing salad, me slicing bread
Dirty Snow
by Renée Hearrin The cedar cape drips its milk-white mask, quaint boucléd roof and icicle lace, patchy wet windows, porch and walk to muddled
Take To Water
by Renée Hearrin Wilted in the heat, the limp ray petals of a Shasta daisy hang in defeat. Underneath the brittle back yard, its roots search as
The Window
by Matthew M. Cariello Then I knew one word, birthright’s rudiment uttered in hunger’s warm room. The sense of me without sense. I would have
Foundation
by Matthew M. Cariello Clutter in the vestibule where steps buckled and mortar cracked. I watched my father crawl into the dark beneath the stoop