bennett allen

Three Poems by Bennett Allen

Losing My Edge What’s it like to be a gay warden? Sorry, deputy warden I want to ask him but don’t He smelled me out right away First thing’s first [...]

November 1, 2015

The Ultimate Dinner Party by C.B. Johnson

Nobody knew it but it was the eve of another historic money crash, the kind that has bankers jumping out of windows from [...]
Thieves by Kelle Grace Gaddis

Sleep is a type of dying we enter each night. If lucky, we rise from our rest in peace, our pillowed tombs, to see another [...]
Times Square 1960 by Mark Pritchard

I haven’t been to a joint like this in years, but this is where Feldman is appearing. The faded lobby is strangely [...]
Fairy Tales and other poems by Jonathan Duckworth

Mediation. Shallow rill of air between our throats & the arrow that finds an artery. Our dreams boiled down, reduced to [...]
he by lauren millici

says I’m a break from routine. Spends the night inside of me, a vacancy at a Motel Six. Fucks without his wedding ring, [...]
church tit-mouse witch and other poems by Jacklyn Janeksela

so easy to call them chicken bones & even easier to read them should the weather be just right, clank a bell or a chime [...]
girls with griffins in their eyes need to wear contacts by Calvero

I saw a pretty girl in a cafe today. She was sitting alone and sipping some kinda coffee drink. She looked like that musty [...]
scars and other stories by stefan lutter

Dim lights and crowded room shoes scuffing and embarrassed cell phones. Prominent man, stands, emphasizes his [...]
Seasonally Affected and Disordered by Judith Cody

Sky stuffed with leaden clouds seeming ready to suffocate like a soggy pillow feeling like the regulation issue California [...]
Planting Flowers and other poems by Paul Wiegel

Each one blooms a beginning. They look like white teacup tops, or like a lobes of the brain with all those tucks and folds [...]
The Huldufolk by Liz Kay

You had spent most of your years gazing at the moon like a thick haired child on a Christmas advert but the orange plane to [...]
#100 and other poems by Elizabeth Schmuhl

I have a certain fantasy: the earth that holds me swallows me deliberately. No one digs me a grave. What a luxury to slip [...]