Michele McDannold
Author's posts
Apr 09
Night Vision by John Grey
NIGHT VISION Outside the dream, a cigarette wedged between my teeth, a woman’s eyes alight on my window, America’s core, perhaps, or a plastic bird – a fusion of a lady of the night and a UFO? And below her neck, and high above the town, a body flares like a tongue of fire making …
Apr 09
Cocaine Blues #189 by Bart Edelman
Cocaine Blues #189 My friend, Jackson Browne, Tells me I should take Sally, And, sure, he’ll take Sue. Claims there’s no difference, Between the two. But I know far better, Now that I’m not under a haze Brought on by the demon drug. You see, Sally’s tall and thin. Reminds me of Aunt Gert, Before …
Apr 08
THE POLISH HAMMER POETRY CORNER: Hey, Did I Ever Tell You I’m a Writer? by Karl Koweski
Hey, Did I Ever Tell You I’m a Writer? On casual Fridays while most of my co-workers on the office side of the factory wall eschew collared shirts for Tees emblazoned with the insignia of their favorite sports team, I pimp a shirt advertising the cover of my latest short story collection, Thrift Store …
Apr 07
After the Funeral by Katrina Kaye
After the Funeral The enormity of death can be too much at times; the finality of it, too overwhelming, so instead of contemplating prayers or words of solace, the void is filed with the ordinary. How important these sweet rituals, these sweet, sweet rituals of routine that once seemed so meaningless, but now hold the …
Apr 07
Persistence of Snowfall by William Doreski
Persistence of Snowfall Do we ever think of Oedipus in his self-inflicted blindness? Do we think beyond incest and the priapic of kingship to see his suffering flourish in vivid Impressionist colors? The storm that will arrive tonight will camouflage us under snow. We’ll rise at dawn and ignite machines to hack a route through …
Apr 06
2 poems by Todd Cirillo
Our Serenade Everything was right about the morning. The way she woke after nine hours of solid sleep to discuss her dreams after an “I love you” in place of good morning. We keep each other company in the shower, morning music, the way she stops to kiss me while getting dressed or me holding …
Apr 05
Magnified 500X by Zack Kopp
MAGNIFIED 500X MARGARET RICHARDSON KNEW everything that was happening on her block before it happened. Always watching from behind her fence, near a birdfeeder, she kept tabs on all her neighbors’ dirty habits. Handsome Mr. Ushoom down the street was plagued by a dangerous obsession with high-stakes gambling. He always wore yellow bellbottoms when …
Apr 04
2 poems by Peycho Kanev
Eclectic The moment before the moment of pain— for example her gaze becomes deep as a lake after the autumn rains, full of drowned men. We walk alone in the park and the leaves fall, fall… Empty beer melancholy, we only have this life to live. Sharks You must be extremely cautious not to …
Apr 03
2 poems by Matthew Borczon
After it’s over The war pours the first drink of every evening after it’s over the war is a three am booty call that makes you sweat and scream after it’s over the war is the only story you remember around the campfire the only verse you remember of any song It’s a peach pit …
Apr 02
3 poems by Daniel Romo
Empty Nest What’s the term for when a dad’s home alone, sitting in the corner of his living room left holding his feelings and fate, cradled in his arms like a fresh bouquet of carnations and consolations? And what’s it called when you have too much time to stop and smell the newly bloomed juxtaposes? …
