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June 24, 2016 |

Nightmares

Annalise Mabe

He was a shadow, "A black braid of smoke" as Simic would say. No. That's too pretty.

Nightmares photo
2 Poems photo

June 23, 2016 | Poetry

2 Poems

Wendy C. Ortiz

washing the wound
in beer and poetry

Chicharones photo

June 23, 2016 | Fiction

Chicharones

Herve Comeau

She has a pliant diction, and always after speaking to her mother her accent takes on the squished together sing-song of Spanish. When I ask her who it was on the phone she says, “My mother,”

Reliable  photo

June 22, 2016 | Fiction

Reliable 

Acquanetta M. Sproule

I call him “Morty” and he’s one of my most consistent companions.

Each morning when I wake, he whispers:  “Today, you die.”