Byron’s Band

Jason M. Thornberry
In eighth grade, I joined the miniature orchestra at my private Christian school: Jake played violin, John the baritone horn, James, Eric, and Wendy were our clarinet section, while Byron, Warren, and I played alto saxophones. Our band teacher, Mr. Gravestone, waved a thin white baton and wore a thick brown moustache. Smirking at us, Gravestone stroked his moustache like ... Read More

Pilgrimages

Valerie Fox
You can find a lot of reasons to keep living in a crackly French language cult-film, you know which one. Thereā€™s a man and a woman walking to the Main Street Pharmacy, in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, a short distance from their home near the university. It is said that Isabel, Karlā€™s wife, has a law degree or is a rocket scientist ... Read More

Mermaids Wanted

TJ Butler
The rage in the manā€™s voice: This is the kind of bullshit vacation Iā€™dā€™ve gone on if Iā€™d stayed in Saluda and had kids with Erin. He stood next to his sports car yelling at a girl leaning against the car with her head down. A gold rope chain at his neck shone dully in the sun. The girl murmured, ... Read More

Postcard from Colorado

Todd Copeland
When we observe calmly, Bashō said, we discover all things have their fulfillment. Overturned canoes along Lake Dillonā€™s western shore rendered into general shapes, valley fields made tabula-rasa white. He sat alone in the cabin watching cloud shadows range mountains. Solitude and morning laziness, pine branches sagging beneath late-season snow ... Read More

Wake

CL Bledsoe
The church smelled like dust and old people with a faint undertone of dying flowers. The pews were hard wood

Rituals with Elephants (a sort of ghazal)

Rachel Ann Russell
I barely remember my motherā€™s mother, my memories are not like an elephant I remember her glass cabinet, to a

Voice Over Internet

Benjamin Inks
In addition to ā€œgood morningā€ and ā€œgood nightā€ text messages, they used to send each other blank emails. What started

The Fox Always Returns

Jen Soong
Lulu wept hot tears into the wheel of her white Datsun. It was almost midnight, the eve of her thirtieth

Death by Butter

Jessica Claire Haney
For months, sheā€™d been saying ā€œThat butterā€™s gonna kill someoneā€ each time the heavy paper box thudded on the floor

Olive Expects Organ Music, but There is None

Patricia Q. Bidar
Olive knew the deceased only slightly. He volunteered for years as a handyman at the local homeless shelter. Olive works

Ferry Dream

Greg Friedmann
Iā€™m sure this happened: we were on a ferry, walking the deck among parked cars as we crossed a wide

Second Page of Apartment Lease – Tenancy

Philip Raisor
Walt Whitman was a great master of irony, loving and caustic, but his tongue-in-cheek description of a landlord ā€œperfect and

She Tried To Be Good

Shirley Brewer
My bookmark lauds pulp fiction, some dark froth called The Amazing Story of Carrie-Daughter of Sin. Carrieā€™s image appears front

The Amateur Taxidermist

DS Maolalai
frankly, I was never very wild as a musician. jack knew the music. I just liked it. would call around

Sleeping to the Letter M

Mark Bennion

1.

You hum in the routine of lying down. Your mind rumbles in the murmur of bass voices. You are

Backseat Driverā€™s Test

Mark Bennion
That night the car became a weapon hardened with front sight, slide stop and disassembly lever. Polymers. Carbon fiber. Steel

In the House of Fado

Mike Reis
ā€œSometimes I think that when I finally slough off these stagnant clothes, I may not stand as naked as I

Early Music

Valerie Fox

In which Iā€™m the girl that the young man can only tell the truth to while sheā€™s sleeping, the one

Faraway Houses

Jefferson Limos
Over the distance, the faraway houses looked exactly like different species of mushrooms, bathing in the scant moonlight before the

Things I Lost in the Windstorm

TJ Butler
The rack of cocktail dresses with their strappy sequins and newly-matted ostrich feather trim. The books, a sodden pile of

Divertimento

Todd Copeland
The memory my grandfather shared was meant to be lighthearted. When he was ten, he said, heā€™d sit in the

Loci Classici

Todd Copeland
Every Friday buries a Thursday. Suffer into truth. When the fruit is ripe, a touch will make it fall. Everything

Flip Flops

Eleanor Levine
A restraining order, which came in the mail, said, ā€œIf you come within ten inches of my woman, I will

The Changes That Have Come Upon Us

Guillermo Bowie
And Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz Assuming the luxury of mentioning certain names Placed into verse by way of