Friday Night Drive to Watertown by Brad Rose

I’m wearing flammable clothing. Also wearing the inflammable clothing. You can’t be too careful. Although it’s not posted, I’m driving the exact speed limit. It must have snowed last night, because I just passed a house with a square snowman. Man, I tell you, those kids have problems. I hope they get some help. Soon. You know what…

Two Prose Poems by Jeanann Verlee

Children Made of Cotton My son asks where he came from. It is my first lie. I say, I brought you home from a place where hundreds of little lamb-boys live. He says, Really!? I say, Yes, and I almost couldn’t choose. Then you, so bright and soft. I put you in my cart and went straight…

Manifest Destiny by Lisa Grove

I promised him buffalo. We left the deer in Michigan—twitches of tongue and fur in the roadside grass. The wind skins the plains of South Dakota, and we lick clean the pleiosaur bones. No buffalo. We wave to the Maserati Man, stopped for gas on the other side of Needle’s Eye, Wyoming. We enter the…

Defiling Monrovia by Eric Lawson

We began the afternoon drunk on our youthful vigor, emitting high-pitched howls of laughter recognition at our glorious in-jokes. We recited eulogies to the locals in the guise of long-forgotten commercial jingles and devoured the innuendo, so transparent. We imbibed glass after glass of top shelf wine, so necessary. We high-fived each other from across…

Three Poems by Nancy Lynée Woo

Blues and Greens We speak of the most intimate barbs in low growls. Chicken wire poking out of my throat, blue today but going back to green, there is a tiny laughing Buddha jumping on my chest. Sometimes, he is only an angler fish and I have swum too deep. There are no women allowed here. Back…

Three Poems by Richard Garcia

The History of White Anklets The first white anklets fell from the sky during the age of the dinosaurs. Nobody knew what they were because there was nobody to wonder. Dinosaurs poked at them with their snouts, but since they had never been worn, they had no scent. One anklet hung from a branch of the first primordial…

Two Poems by E.M. Schorb

The Careless Man and the Philosopher The careless man heard the philosopher and said, But you see you have a problem with your premise. No matter where you stand, everything you say comes from that direction. I could put you on the moon and get a different argument from you. And you, said the philosopher, where is what…

Three Poems by Richard Garcia

Vowelville Arriving at last in Vowelville we were greeted by the Vole. At least he said that was his name. But Felsenfeld said to me later when we were at the Vowelville Motel, where we were the only guests, That man is not the Vole, the Mole, or even the Bole. It was all the same to me.…

Prisoner of Love by Brad Rose

It was an understandable mistake. A small figurine of a girl, you were available only in stores that sold bullets. It was like a silent movie. Thank goodness, it was a lot better than it sounded. Of course, love can’t be attributed entirely to crop failure. Your kiss was far less frigid than lipstick on…