December 2016
In this issue
Contents
Poetry
Braille
lately my mind is a dreamy soup Yours, polished rosin. I stand grey as a doorway To embody sleep my chance to mishear when you..
Exiled at Home
I find it amusing, yes when people refer to their nation as the Mother Land. My mother’s land is not mine. I have no claim..
His Death: Part I
took my arm and said something about MRSA climbed into a sitting position took on his own half-assed-half-lotus “I had an axe and a wife…
Am I Now I?
Change the way you think you’re escaping toward the blue and fuzzy, bleeding into a wash. [Ask me not to say it.] Awake from the..
Nothing is Ever Destroyed
I wanted to stay in that little town with you The one with all the chickens And the movie house on fire Late at night..
Fiction