Who loves the warthog? Who threw up a fence To guard that frame, that face? I found him near “Exotic Birds,” Electrifying, base — Prodigal son, whose well-stocked pen &n
06.13.2010| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 6, Issue 1 | Patrick Spence
No CommentsAfter an aimless time searching for an ambiguous truth, I behold the idea incarnate. It takes the shape my mind always dreamed-- a fantasy realized and released-- one pale lily among rough reeds. Without reaching out to its beauty, I fall back into tangibility, leave all untouched in silence
03.27.2010| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 5, Issue 2 | Maria Xia
No CommentsShe’s a beautiful girl. Red sweater, white shoes, cherub cheeks. Unsmiling eyes. The first time I saw her, I wondered if what George and Nina had said about her was true. That she’d been found on a nameless sidewalk in a blind city, swaddled in red and scraping her tender hands on the rough fibe
11.20.2009| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 5, Issue 1 | Ann Chao
1 CommentI AM the voice of the unseen You shall never know me, Listen as my words evaporate What I say refers to nothing. All the days of life vanish Each one polishing your soul, When the last morning arrives Then you see through time. There I stand always waiting As your prayers glimpse me, O
11.20.2009| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 5, Issue 1 | Kevin McGrath
1 Commentfrom the burial ground at old Copp’s Hill two clay-daubed ministers rise floating from their earthen mound flitting through the red-bricked ville fleeting in the moonlit skies their shrouds of Cotton in breadth Increase with the billowing gust their faces forgotten their breaths long cea
11.20.2009| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 5, Issue 1 | Michael Yashinsky
No CommentsYou descended into hell. You plunged, razed it with your eyes – This song is in praise of you. You descended into hell
11.20.2009| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 5, Issue 1 | Judith Huang
No CommentsFather Wallace was generally able to keep an open mind when it came to the new members of his parish, so he was surprised by the strength of the dislike he felt when he first met Jordan Sullivan. The feeling wasn't immediate. When Father Wallace first noticed the handsome new face in the congregatio
12.1.2008| Fiction and Poetry, Volume 4, Issue 2 | Eric Lang
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