By Glen Armstrong You did not say my name. But I assume you were talking. About me. The Skrulls and the Kree. Go to war. I assume it was something I said. A wet sock accentuates. The tile on my bathroom floor. Loose change obscures. A photograph of me as a baby. Being … Continue reading About Me
Snow Globe
By Glen Armstrong Bones of snow. Seem to float within her. A horse and carriage makes its way. Through her wintery mood. The night would be beautiful. If not for this grave mission. And nothing I say. Seems to console her. Curtesy and customer service. Intermingle. I answer her phone. And the caller declines … Continue reading Snow Globe
Sea-Monkeys
By Glen Armstrong I'm afraid of poetry. Who’s to say that those interesting. Young people at the podium. Won’t summon a demon. Or make the whole room fall. In love. I have boots to reheel. And no time to feel weird. About daffodils and wars. That my grandparents fought. Words ought to inspire … Continue reading Sea-Monkeys
Sunsetted Clauses
By James Walton She told me my hips could carve ham, a girl I loved dead early on a Sunday morning, a car in a suburban chance roll over the edge of Hailes Street. Langy knows we still blame him. His life of laying bricks the string line’s quiver a darting mouse, the memory of water … Continue reading Sunsetted Clauses
Her Way
by Wanda Morrow Clevenger when girls my sister and I were made to scratch her back and her head until our fingers came away oily she said it was nerves from raising 4 girls alone a doctor told her to take a glass of wine at night to relax but her faith … Continue reading Her Way
high in the sky
by Wanda Morrow Clevenger my card arrived at last so we stopped in at the pot dispensary hippy music they used to call it teemed March Madness screeched silently on the big screen water and coffee around the corner and free snacks in a basket after keying me in the associate … Continue reading high in the sky
Standard Issue
by Wanda Morrow Clevenger we weren’t friends or enemies standard issue mother and daughter five decades passed before she revealed anything remotely personal hoping perhaps I’d make record even though she had said she didn’t read the poems
Marching Band Parades
By Ryan Quinn Flanagan rain made my day marching band parades child on shoulder points tossed baton accolades stores open late clouds in the harbour courthouse colonnades waving shopkeeper bedtime story rain child under blanket sleeps boats in the harbour sway marching band parades. Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a … Continue reading Marching Band Parades
5 Hour Window
By Ryan Quinn Flanagan I cannot imagine my windows only being there for 5 hours. What happens then? An open air intrusion of bugs and bird? Open concept to the masses? But that is the present humanitarian reality. I can’t imagine what I would do without my windows. A … Continue reading 5 Hour Window
Chinook
BY Ryan Quinn Flanagan is that cardboard? is that D.B. Copper on performance enhancing drugs? I could skin a snake with chopsticks while listening to Nancy Sinatra, that is not what I wish to do, but what must be done the sole difference being one of want: what I want, you ask? a cart full … Continue reading Chinook
Academy of the Heart And Mind 