Untitled: The sun teaches warmth… by Benjamin Fisher

Benjamin Fisher

Untitled: The sun teaches warmth…

The sun teaches warmth and light and

            heaven, but

            you can’t be sure you’re a grateful

            student—prudent given Ockham’s razor

cuts so blunt agains the grain unsure of

            unsewn oats. Once stained nothing comes

clean, obscene blunders/faux pas wonders

like passed out mother holding square bottles instead

of babies.

            What thoughts condemn, slits from hip

to hem—you know it’s wrong, but

            like train crashes

            you won’t

            Look away.

            In this case, hate the sinner not

            the sin.

            “Rabounni?” The low woman said.


            He is not here, when he is needed


            How can an ape teach a man tabled

manners? Play the parlor tricks and hope

they are


Untitled: Seeing things… by Benjamin Fisher

Benjamin Fisher

Untitled: Seeing things…

Seeing things reminds us of being things—special
roles for special holes in the lives of small men; the question—
do they know what men are?—Christmas,
out for a cigarette, boy tugging at his sleeve,
“Please don’t leave, please.”
Never heard such a happy boyd beg shuddering
at memories of a heavy shoulder silhouette
tiptoeing in steel toe boots—
Embarrassment is crying in a basement over too
many drinks thinking about how to shave and
all the cuts endured that girls pointed at, leaning
against lockers and what you’d say to the s[u]n
so bright you could no longer hide in glass corners—
Sometimes love is outrage over dirty catheters and
urethra infections, a failed reclamation of dignity
for the hickory that withered to dust in a
woman’s hands—And those little boys with
saucer eyes will ask the questions, will ask for
stories and hang onto cliffs made of words
hoping the ropes you fashion will hold them like
hammocks or wombs and you’ll remember a
Darwinian line hoping you are a knuckle dragger
–“Not to go on all-fours; that is the law.
Are we not men?”

The Promise by Dareian Griffith

Dareian Griffith

The Promise

Shameful stares seek her out,
cascade her mind; dreadful doubt.
Clutching strong, her internal life,
the promise: it will be alright.
This hard path ahead she knows,
yet leaving her bed her smile glows.
And through it all, she’ll persevere,
slowly but surely, life’s lesson becoming clear.
The words she hears, it’s worth the while,
but until we meet… dreaming of your precious smile.

Siren by Sara Martens

Sara Martens



Ahaunting melody echoes within his mind, ensnaring the witless fool. She emerges from the shadows: a woman of impossible beauty, the epitome of desire. The curves of her body sway enticingly as she approaches. Such eager prey. Pathetic. With distain, she watches his body collapse to the alley street. Her dagger embedded in his chest, her immortal heart is alive once more, racing from the thrill of a man’s demise.

Liege by Michael Johnson

Michael Johnson



Drowned in ash and choked by smoke
And silence hears the measure
A deathly hymn on tattered cloths
And a city left to wither.

Ragged wings of scarlet red
And the prideful stayed their absence
Said the cries of the suffered dead
And the leader boast his status.

Crack the stone and salt the fields
And burn down the pyre.
Shattered bones on a broken throne
And the king they crowned a liar.

When Worlds Collide by Jessica Seipler

Jessica Seipler

When Worlds Collide


A soft, piano entrance
Of a decorated Andromeda
Betrothed to a monster
Whose only hope in life
Is death itself
And so it came
Swiftly as a sword
And so came the music
That poured from his soul…
A crescendo from minor to major
Vivace and mezzo forte
Until the sun imploded
In a supernova of fire
Illuminating the sky
In colors like never before
And so it was seen
Once and for all
That this savage serpent
Was in fact a beautiful beast.

Nonetheless by Wesley Yeager

Wesley Yeager



Her eyes watch you, staring deeply into your soul.
But you don’t see her.
You survey yourself daily and primp while she laughs.
But you don’t hear her.

She is there nonetheless.

Through your eyes she can see your secrets.
But you don’t know it.
She probes your mind while you are unaware.
But you don’t feel it.

In the corner of your eye you can see her.
But you ignore it.
She appears in front of you every day.
But you forget it.

She changes things occasionally, just for you.
But you don’t notice.
She screams at you, tries to terrify you.
But you don’t listen.

You can feel her sometimes, after a scary movie.
But you push it aside.
You feel her eyes staring across the room.
But you just try to sleep.

In the middle of the night you wake, sweating.
But you don’t think of her.
She sends shivers down your spine, chilling you.
But you rationalize instead.

She stands in your mirror, watching your life.
But you ignore her.
Until one day, she has you convinced she’s fake.
You go about your day.

That is when the mirror changes, it doesn’t reflect.
But you are asleep still.
It opens and she walks through, over to your bed.
You stir slightly, anxious.

She lifts you into her arms, gently as a lover, out of bed.
You smile to yourself.
And she carries you across the threshold, the mirror black.
You feel damp, cold.

You wake and scream, pounding against the mirror in vain.
She has your life.
You see her living on the other side, living the life you once had.
You beg and plead.

But she is there nonetheless.

Dreams by Rachael Marion

Rachael Marion


I take a deep breath and dive right under
I swim through the sifting sands
A scorpion glides right up to me
And pinches me in the toe
I scoop him up in my hands
Feeling the ripples above me sway
I let him go; he slides away.

Swimming along these strange lands
I wonder what I am to do
My breath is short; I lose my place
Falling ever under
A figure helps me surface, but who?
Gasping for air, I search all about
Feeling the loss of the one I’m without.

I’m in a new dream
There’s water around me now
But I fly, not swim
I have wings so silver they gleam
Yet again I don’t know how
I sense him floating around me
I see who it is, oh how can that be?

My one, my love!
My heart burst with joy
But how? I thought he had passed
I don’t care how he’s alive
All that matters is that I love this boy
I drift into his arms
He promises to protect me from harms.

But then he’s gone
I am alone and I cry
Why must nothing go my way?
I just want him back
Through all my wants I sigh
I know all the problems my wants will make
So slowly, sadly, I wake.

Death Sentence by Wesley Yeager

Wesley Yeager

Death Sentence

The chair felt like any other, cold at first, and then the longer one sat on it the warmer it became. It had handgrips that sadly showed their years quite prominently; such a variety of men and women whose very fingers had clutched these arms. The scrapes and dings on the surface of the chair showed its personality. Each scratch held a treasured story as tenderly as a mother holding new life. Yet in its whole life, this chair had only seen the darkness of man.

Extinguished by Keirston Rinehart

Kierston Rinehart


Life is…

when the autumn leaves fall from the tree,
preparing for dormant winter months.
A unique silence fills the crisp air.
The impalpable breeze flows through his skin.
This may be the last time.
His wrinkled skin mimics the leaves on the ground,
dead, old, and decomposing.
His heart breaks, much like the foliage.
His loving soul is being crushed by the season,
destined for more, he knows.
Don’t let him be forgotten
for is he leaving this world. Without notice.