Latest Writing
POETRY
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PERSISTENT DESIGN by Nate Pritts
Wasps keep circling the shutters, long stalks of grass dangling from thin back legs, and when they crawl between the slats into the small dark, they bring their greeny materials with them. There is nothing here you can’t leave.
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FIRST WINTER by Hala Alyan
Our bodies are urns full of rain, spilling during the harvest. The elders speak of clemency. The army marches on. We watch them across the ocean, speak their undead name in our sleep.
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TWO POEMS by Lee Sharkey
CIVILIZATION Even in the most inhospitable circumstances there is always time for a cup of tea. Say you live in a cup with a hole blasted in its side in a blasted landscape, by a blasted tree and an empty barrel.
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