October
Orange. Red. Brown. Dead. The papery skins on which we tread Are as cold and as dry as the air Through which they float and fly. Beware...
Medicine
I hope my words can Do all the things I never Could. Faraway meadows hold Whatever secrets I can’t seem to Find when I open my eyes; They...
Eviction Notice
Be gone you who does me no good And never did! You’ve camped out here for Oh so long, a burden and a bum, Feeding off my everyday,...
Breaking Mirrors
You will stay with us That’s what the song says And that’s what I say, what I mean But the truth, dear, Is that you’re almost gone And I...
A Plum
A plum, a plum, So black and full, And fresh and taunt and round. Bite the flesh and feel the juice Drip, drip down. A heart, a heart, So...
Nocturnal Nightmares
Stretching. Gliding. Falling. Finally free, or abandoned? It was during a mid-October evening when I saw it. The beauty, the sorrow. Cast...
Glimpse
For me, something in my chest feels like it’s going to burst, or at least expand so much against my edges that I’ll never go back to...
Greg Hill - Editor
Editor (Spring 2016 - Fall 2016, Block 2) Author of Synaptic Pruning, Voices, Smiling. Photos: Bamburg, Submerged, La Garone, Hawk.
Gordon Graham - Editor
Editor (Fall 2016) Author of SID
Fly, Eagles, Fly
Bare-boned shot to my soul from fuckin’ left field man More grizzled than my dusted up hundred-watt head Punched holes in chests like...