Michele McDannold
Author's posts
Oct 31
Tallest Man I’ve Ever Known by Misti Rainwater-Lites
Tallest Man I’ve Ever Known Daddy was a monster was a god was a tree was a mountain. I guess I was some kind of doll. Six feet seven inches. He stood over me his blue eyes shining rage his belt swinging his words reducing me to so much ash. This is common. He was …
Oct 30
Giving Water to a Drowning Man by Greg Clary
Giving Water to a Drowning Man Lord, when will I feel less like drowning? I grew up listening to country music, savoring the pain songs about tragic romance. Words that pulled me toward a rawer truth, holding close the weight of life’s hard edges. I couldn’t wait until I grew up, got divorced, and wrote …
Oct 29
Meat Is Murder by Charles Rammelkamp
Meat Is Murder On a random radio station, driving through another state, the talkshow host throws out a spurious statistic, citing the high percentage of “young people” (she doesn’t give an age range) who believe that bacon is a vegetable. This may be a commentary on the stupidity of “young people.” (“They’re just so fuckin’ …
Oct 28
THE POLISH HAMMER POETRY CORNER: Hopping Over the Cracks in Reality by Karl Koweski
Hopping Over the Cracks in Reality Cracker had taken to avoiding me at work, and that was fine. If he wanted to eat his bologna and cheese sammiches in the confines of his shitty Kia during lunch break, more power to him. Some folks preferred to eat accompanied by the music from their Spotify list …
Oct 27
Call of the Wild by Alan Catlin
Call of the Wild They were very much into a Call of the Wild frame of mind Thought what they needed was another drug that would take them all the way into an abyss What they didn’t Know was that they had done more than enough drugs That they were already in the abyss & …
Oct 26
The Waitress Cleans the Diner’s Coffee Pots by Karen J. Weyant
The Waitress Cleans the Diner’s Coffee Pots and in her rush, spills coffee grounds all over the counter. Sticky, wet mounds stain her dishcloth, remind her of an uncle who chewed tobacco, a small wad always tucked between his cheek and lower lip. His teeth were tainted brown, his jeans all wore white Skoal circles …
Oct 25
The Way It Happens by James Babbs
The Way It Happens the hum of the refrigerator coming from the laundry room reminds me I don’t have any beer but there’s whisky in the kitchen siting right there on the counter next to the stove and I know it won’t be much longer before I’m opening the bottle and pouring whiskey into my …
Oct 24
One for a nickel, two for a dime; photo & poem, by Greg Clary
One for a nickel, two for a dime We’re both waiting, in a way. Me—for caffeine to offer a boost during the drive home. Him—for something less abstract: a dollar, a nod, a moment of being seen. The foam clings to my lip, and I wipe it away without thinking. He wipes rain from his …
Oct 23
A Few Quick Things by Paul Luikart
A Few Quick Things I used to love this man, a local old guy with some talent for ventriloquism. Mr. Bobby, and the dummy was called Bartolo. They played birthday parties, school assemblies, that kind of thing. Mr. Bobby would pop his eyes wide and smile huge and the dummy would shout, “Who loves you?” …
Oct 22
Miscellaneous by Jonathan Hayes
Miscellaneous I like the smell of vinegar, gasoline, clove cigarettes, gunpowder, Listerine, shoe polish, my own farts and armpit sweat, citrus, and let’s not forget the pool’s chlorine. Treading water in the deep end — that’s all I know how to do. Everything else, sinks. Jonathan Hayes is the editor / publisher of the long-running …
