by Lynn Glicklich Cohen To be deft means unleashing shackles of technique into a swarm of skill, pure abandonment of steps; you lift off...

by Linda Mills Woolsey “Can I put the dollar in for you?” she asks. Her dark eyes shine like molasses in sunlight, her scraped-back hair...

by Linda Mills Woolsey For months we’ve been stirring and stirring strange thoughts, awash in a sea of angers, watching ideas swirl,...

by Mary Beth Hines The girl who lives next door watches the quiet backlit drama unfold from beneath the willow tree in Alonzo’s backyard....

by Matthew Miller Your silence is a gift. A sand partridge quivering and whistling. We furnish the path for ourselves, for now, giving...

by Linda Mills Woolsey When I consider the buzz of feeding on nectar, the bluebottle’s heady dazzle, azure to rival even the dragonfly’s,...

by Catherine McGuire At first, the air, alive – you think chaff… gnats. But the single note from a thousand throats strums the...

by Heather Kaufmann Manning Provincial Park, BC, July 2021 Luke 3:7-17 Dust billows at our every step our finger pads and nostrils ...

by Ryan Keating A dance in medias res Our hands and feet together Cast identical shadows Of union and uniqueness In overlapping circles...

by Johanna Caton The buck stood at the border of dark forest and meadow, looking toward the open space. Even a prodigy of evil big as a...

by Susan Francino Rather weighed down by tone-deaf singing, the record of my own dead prayer, I emerge from the church —first to leave,...

by Ken Meisel When the dream awakens & the sleeping coma is no longer present, the self finds an awakening – its love revelation – in the...

by Laurie Klein Overnight, new toadstools shoulder through sodden grass the way sorrows emerge, one after another. Traveler, in a season...

by Violeta Garcia-Mendoza Praise the sirenwail, the barking that accompanies the fire whistle, that whips itself into howling for its own...

by Jenna K Funkhouser I. this is the night we walk backwards into blindness into silence this is the daybreak we bear unrecognized...

by Daniel Rattelle Fishing-drunk in the Connecticut and no miraculous catch, you row for home. What short thrusts from stern to bow you...

by Laurie Klein In God’s backyard, roosting birds reawaken the old throes interred within us—personal heartland, tangled as any natural...

by Andrew J. Calis Greens and blues, the yellow light turns red spreading itself across the floor of the chapel. And warms through the...

by Mary Redman For N.M You were fourteen and sullen that day I picked you up from cross country practice. We bickered, and I couldn’t...

by Susan Francino I didn’t ask the caterpillar with its antennae tangled criss-cross in a cobweb if it wanted to be healed, but when I...