by Joshua Jones I heard you call my name. The wire of your voice pulled tight through the hallway. Expecting to find you marooned on the...

by Mary Redman (after Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins) We entered Yellowstone, and you gaped at charred tree trunks, where acre...

By Julie L. Moore Along the Rio Grande, in Ciudad Juárez,                                                        amid the high Chihuahuan...

By Laurie Klein Hovering clouds, more sting than mist, feel akin to ice, forced through a sieve, Salmon River below us, all teem and...

by JM Jordan Step out on the back porch of some getaway, some house nestled among low historic hills, where you have found yourself among...

by Brian Volck All I know is that it happens unexpectedly: how the forest trail, dim even under still leafless limbs, abruptly yields to...

by Cortney Davis –December 21, 2020 Tonight the air had the scent of earth, of dust, like old books in a sunlit library rarely used. We...

by Russell Rowland Candles will be there at my windows, as late as certain shepherds kept watch over their flocks by night. No angels...

by Jody Collins Dust echoes with his not-voice, the fingered sentence setting her free. Onlookers speechless, he bends again to slice...

by Naomi Bess Leimsider Two spikes a day; the heat slams through me. Doubles down, bends around, catches sudden and quick. Then nothing...

by Ken Meisel Some valentines have sentences in them first. That’s why everything I loved, in one moment, changed when you interrupted...

by Luci Shaw Between generous fields of ripe cranberries and the gleam of corn stubble we drive toward the base of Sumas Mountain, a...

by Jeff Gundy Years ago I decided not to fight every battle, not to dive into black holes or drive through floodwaters, not to pin my...

by Peter Grandbois In the end, there is mostly exhaustion, And wine like blood in this webbing dusk, The scavenger wind playing its...

by Jenna K. Funkhouser An east wind, she might have thought as she splayed the wooden beams and divided their garments Brushed aside the...

by Bethany Getz When my twin brother Nathan and I were eight, he asked my parents if he could play recreational soccer. After the first...

By Mark Watney O Lord      our Shaper1 your name is whirled through all the world Your greatness heaves2     beyond heaven It catches in...

by Russell Rowland To the diffident little boy who is my soul: white birches hold out their limbs to you, black flies can hardly...

by James Owens The day comes, perhaps in your fiftieth year, when you know the rest of it is a letting go. Parents will die and soon....

by Jody Collins Securely tabled, the body awaits a scalpel ready to move in. Sure-handed surgeon, knowing aorta versus vein, cavity...