Michele McDannold
Author's posts
Jul 28
In Service by Zak Mucha
In Service The former Marine with a zipper scar curled around his ear like a topographical map charting a river said he once had to explain to a Texas farmer during a 4 AM training exercise that those men dropping from black helicopters in his fields were U.S. Marines but the government was not coming …
Jul 27
Red Rockets (and a photo) by Wendy Cartwright
Red Rockets It’s the season of the sun, and I feel like I’m on it, the sun that is, with solar cells at peak absorption rates the rays can’t penetrate eyelids or the smog surrounding this moody fucking astronaut who just wants to crash somewhere on earth, but can’t make up their mind where. A …
Jul 26
A Small Ruffle of Feathers by Steve Saulsbury
A Small Ruffle of Feathers Across the back acre, we looked for the graves. Nothing had been buried out there in years. The boxwoods were gone, the garden abandoned. Now my sister wanted to know, because someone had to cut the grass. Keep It Simple Stupid, I told her. Honeysuckle had choked the fence. A …
Jul 25
The Mayor of Williams by Jon Bennett
The Mayor of Williams My tow truck driver is “70, but a young 70!” and has plucked me from Williams, CA to bring me to Marysville so I can rent a car He’s off duty and worried I won’t pay him “I mind my own business as long as no one fucks with me!” he …
Jul 24
Spring by Biagio Fortini
BIAGIO FORTINI was born in Ripalta Cremasca, in the province of Cremona, Italy. His passion for photography has led him to travel to many countries around the world. His works are part of various anthologies and websites in Canada, USA, Spain, Italy, Albania and India and have been finalists in various literary competitions in …
Jul 23
Wounded Swallows by Irma Kurti
WOUNDED SWALLOWS You rise like an automaton long before dawn, and in that silence the closing of a door is heard; your footsteps resemble those of a drunkard. A bit of bread is wrapped in a piece of paper. It is a long way by train and by bus. The hours drag on, and the …
Jul 22
THE POLISH HAMMER POETRY CORNER: A Sacrifice to the Gods of Industry by Karl Koweski
A Sacrifice to the Gods of Industry I did not help usher my son into this world so that he could give his life over to Hydra Hydraulics, slaving through twelve-hour shifts in stifling heat for shitheel managers. However, I didn’t intend to have him sit around the house playing video games all fucking day, …
Jul 21
2 poems by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella
90 days of fiancés: #1 Tin weather hissed, beaded bodies pressed against the windowpanes. The baby forced his fists against the glass. I asked my fiancé if he called upon God to crack the sky and spill water like venom dripping from the serpent’s tongue He knew the baby and I wanted to go outside. …
Jul 20
Sleeping by Dan Provost
Sleeping Within her light of beauty, the body lay. Death has no answer of where she is going. Only wind blowing from the east, indicating storms and tears on the horizon. Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” playing on some hipster’s phono. Far away. Not seen. My wife, gone. Not known where to search. I …
Jul 19
Without Photos by Jan Wiezorek
Without Photos Down Lake Michigan, this white sand took generations to crush it from rock. Beyond sandpiper’s and bald hill, winds of dry dunes flip my protective lenses down, and I see your smile, your crusted jaw, sand trapped on your neck of grit on grits. Before, we talked about homes and the steps down …
