Jason Squamata – Death of an Extra

Gwendolyn Riley’s cell phone is ringing in a suite at the Chateau Marmont. Through the jagged thresholds of her drug-fried consciousness, the ring sounds like a cluster of church bells, and she can feel the sound changing the shape of her space like you feel an elevator dropping. She’s been in this room for days…

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Connor Miller – 250 #1

The problem is that most of the other writers in my writing workshop only write about drugs if they are doing said drugs. It seems silly to pretend that you have done a certain drug, or to write about it authentically if it hasn’t happened to you. My drug of choice happens to be the…

Danny Barbare – THE JANITOR SAYS WE HAVE TO SERVE

We all begin in our own way with a bottle of spray and a rag clean the desk as if to serve and create our happiness become a golden apple.     Danny P. Barbare works as a janitor at Greenville Technical College where he attended. He often reads his poetry to the English classes.…

Danny Barbare – As if to Sweep

A niche is to sweep away all those grudges with a broom and a stick and begin with a clean heart.     Danny P. Barbare works as a janitor at Greenville Technical College where he attended. He often reads his poetry to the English classes. His poetry has appeared locally, nationally, and abroad. He…

Wryly T. McCutchen – Undaughter

It was raining on the day I was born. Nighttime I came out like a storm from the thunder of my mother I struck. My father tells me I came out of her like a football. I hope he means it was obvious how stippled and stitched and grippable I was then and always have…

Jodi Andrews – My Open Abdomen

A red rose blossomed No black nodes Skin peeled—petals Stitches, suchors Thorny stem Pink skin buds Among black scabs     Jodi Andrews graduated with her M.A. in English from South Dakota State University in December 2016. She lives in Brookings, SD with her husband and teaches English classes at SDSU. She has been published…

Jodi Andrews – This Earth

Limbs stretch like branches. My heart beats, waves pulse. A heart beats like branches stretch. My limbs wave, pulse. This Earth pirouettes around the sun. Dirt swirls, starts tiny cyclones. Cyclones pirouette around the Earth. The sun starts, swirls tiny dirt. Bare branches drip frozen tears. Ruby blossoms reveal raspberries. Ruby tears reveal bare blossoms.…

Quinn Amacher – Truth or Dare

Patrick Findler – The Cow in the Dark

It is six in the morning and it is dark. It is dark in Siberia, and it is silent and the stars surrounding a bank of high silvered clouds send just enough light to see the white tips of the frosted grass by and, at the upper end of the field, the split-log fence, dark…

Michelle Fredette – Marionette

In the food line, he smooshed my hand with his tray. Technically, it was his hand pressed hard against my hand, both of our hands holding the sides of our trays on the cafeteria rail, the edge of my tray imprinting in my palm. I wanted to punch his rubbery face. His hand was cold.…