Old men walk funny with shadows and time eating at their heels. Pediatric walkers, prostate exams, bend over, then most die. They grow poor, leave their grocery list at home, and forget their social security checks bank account numbers, dwell on whether they wear dentures, uppers or lowers; did they put their underwear on? They … Continue reading
Monthly Archives: February 2019
Down Time—Hannah Schriever
Over all I really enjoy reading. It’s been a great past time since I was very young, and not to toot my horn, but I’ve almost always excelled at it. However, no matter how hard I had tried in elementary school, middle school, and high school, I couldn’t get into poetry. I feel college has … Continue reading
Piggyback Movies—Dana Denise Dela Fuente
As many consumers have experienced, subsequent movies are not as [great] as their priors. To name an example, there is the recent hit, Fantastic Beasts: Crimes of Grindewald, that may be taking advantage of the successes of its prequel. Perhaps even the entirety of this series is using the original Harry Potter series as ascendance … Continue reading
Poems as Bicycles—Ann Struthers
Trying to keep a balance between Ted Kooser and Ocean Vuong, over streets of cobblestones, left by all the poets before you, traffic rushing past, new styles, new poets, burbling, bullshitting, bumping along ahead. Some critic opens his car door knocks you onto the street, although your brakes scream or maybe it’s you screaming. It … Continue reading
Kissing the Cobra—Ann Struthers
A barren woman takes one in her brown hand, caresses its belly; as its hood flares, kisses the yellow spot on its head where the Buddha left his blessing. Continue reading
Nothing but the Blood—Mary Ann Honaker
In church as a child, where the Pledged pews force spines into unpleasant uprightness, (by sermon’s end I’d be drooping carpetward,) he’d sing: round little man, lumpy as a dog’s bed, crooning coffeehouse acoustic, eyes closed or unfocused off to the left somewhere, gone, then he’d return, stooping a bit under applause, plump cheeks tucked … Continue reading
I’m a Friend of His—DS Maolalai
I go to this bookshop, pick up a book called The Elm Tree by Peter O’Neill and it’s strange, the bookshop lady asks as I buy it if I’m a friend of his. I’m not – it just looked good but jesus, poor Peter. and she just assumed, too; as if anyone buying his book … Continue reading
Depressionism—Michael Milburn
A combination of heredity and inaccessible causes having weighted me down psychically to the point of moving in a trudge even when the going’s level, I try not to glower or say cynical things of the sort that led a colleague to call me spring-loaded on no. It’s a feat of impersonation to avoid the … Continue reading
Planning an Escape Through a Pinhole of Light—Kevin Le Master
We could not separate his death from the multi-colored carpet. His bones , a disintegration of the sound any creature makes when it seeks finality. His single orb opened and closed like an SOS sent from a sinking ship; the only indication of his fight for a fleeting breath. If only he had headed for … Continue reading
Notes on International Communication—Marne Wilson
I. Thirty years ago, my brother went to Egypt. Contact was difficult, but we managed it. Some Sunday afternoons we tried to call him. My little-girl fingers loved to dial the phone, spinning the wheel to each number in the long sequence and then starting all over again when we got cut off. Most of … Continue reading
Coe Review 