Under horizon-to-horizon lead, with intermittent rain more mist than drops, we cleave Michigan north to south, driving between stands of pine and birch that go on mile after mile after mile. Well that we ate breakfast and fueled the car before we started, for there is nothing up here, anywhere, there being few exits and… Continue reading Thoughts Along I-75 South
Author: Editor
Crisis On Our Southern Border
Note from Editor: We are all well aware of the expanding immigrant crisis on our southern border. Virtually every night on the national news we see a fresh clip of migrant children being abused or dying, or tear gas canisters flying toward immigrants seeking to cross our borders, or one politician after another pontificating about… Continue reading Crisis On Our Southern Border
Expectations
During the summer before her senior year of high school, RJ takes in ironing from the wrinkled upper middle class in her small town. Because her mother is a widow, RJ babysits and irons to earn money for essentials: panty hose, Maybelline, and Beatles 45s. She is not allowed to spend any of The College… Continue reading Expectations
The Question of Poetry
It first appeared as a white patch on the ivy covered wall near an open window of the arts building It caught my eye immediately Like paint spilled on a canvas of green Not high up and easily seen Standard clean paper With words resting on their sides Three corners fixed in… Continue reading The Question of Poetry
Issue 17
No one, and I mean absolutely no one, ever writes anything totally by themselves. I know a few writers who claim they do.
Oklahoma Dust
Dust on the dash, windows up as we roll through back roads, radio on static. I will never leave you – in my head, not on my tongue – as mile markers disappear into a cool sunset. That flight to Chicago – you walked me right up to the gate, pre-9/11 style – the night… Continue reading Oklahoma Dust
Dumbing Down My Life
I’m awake this morning, but even as sun streams through the windows, I feel dead. Something is wrong with my brain and I don’t like it. There’s no traction to my thoughts. When I try to sit down and write creatively, it doesn’t work. I hate this feeling. Maybe the problem is caused by the… Continue reading Dumbing Down My Life
Mirror, Mirror
“What’s that?” My father and I were cleaning out my grandmother’s railroad apartment and had come near the end of the hallway with her chest of drawers. “Your grandmother’s bed sheets.” He gave a quick laugh. “She covered the mirror.” We put the chest down. “You can take them off.” I ripped the sheets off what was a full length mirror sitting floor… Continue reading Mirror, Mirror
Flight
You’re strapped in for the hour flight, when a young woman, all flush and out of breath, stops at your row, apologizes with her eyes for making you get up. You fumble with the seat belt, struggle with your cane like a shy schoolboy or a creaky invalid as you rise to let her slide… Continue reading Flight