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Interview with Lynette Reini-Grandell Lynette Reini-Grandell is a Pushcart-nominated writer based in Minneapolis whose work has appeared in It’s Animal but Merciful, MNArtists.org, Poetry Motel, and Evergreen Chronicles.  Her poetry is part of an art installation in room 5D of the Carleton Arms Hotel in Manhattan.  In Minneapolis, she performs regularly with the Bosso...
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(1) wait he was sitting there alone, by the fire draped in a faded woolen rug, smoking… I put my backpack down, joined him the train was late by 2 hours we sat by the fire and waited…  
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Ohio River The stealthy river rolls beneath night traffic, the movement makes light dance against its belly. Its shining surface makes this world look beautiful, but the river writes its own laws, it carves landscapes I cannot hope to see around— things live in it that I will never know. Steel-concrete machinations try to...
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Louise Lefebvre is a multi-media aboriginal artist and writer who lives in the coastal rainforest of British Columbia. She harvests up-cycled materials and combines them with reshaped words to create her unique song.   Ode to Michael T An icy grave will not release you, hides your swollen limbs, Bent and broke under a boulder blanket. Entangled...
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Rain Shadow We decided to take the early morning bus. It was the perfect time; rising sun and birds kept us company outside. And inside, a few stray passengers, like the both of us who still carried sleep. With a bag slung over our shoulders, and many miles to go, we bought potato chips...
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Nettie Farris lives in Floyds Knobs, Indiana. Her chapbook, Communion, is forthcoming from Accents Publishing. Her poetry has recently appeared in Paperbag, Cybersoliel, Illya’s Honey, and Journal of Kentucky Studies Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of five poetry collections, most recently Dreaming in Red from Right Hand Pointing and Cryptic Endearments...
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Casting Out Bad Guys Feels like they’ve left; the overhead thumper prankster mattress bouncer breathing crazy cold in my face at 3 AM like they flippin’ own the joint a damn fine run, though, night and day and in between; in the shower for chrissake
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Black Scene from a Japanese cemetery Age and time seeks its silence to ponder its story; an autumn wind is blowing ~ cherry-trees shed their leaves among stones of many names; a woman in anonymous black walks her old, bent body towards an ancient gate of rock and tile; a deep, low gong sounds...
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