by Rachel Nicholson
Walking barefoot on the pavement, my soles begin to melt.
It sings of the dirt that came before it—
It hums with heat and memory.
by Katarina Pavičić-Ivelja
He left back in the 90s and never returned.
The stranger smiling at me
from the other side of the bench
somewhere in Uppsala.
Read More »by Jeffrey Zable
A 6 or 7 year old boy was crying, “I want my balloon back …
I want my balloon back …”
by Stacie Eirich
I don’t have to dream the warmth
into being today. Today the sun
a perfect blue. Today birdsong
and breeze are as golden and light
as spring. Rippling, soft, Brilliant.
by Fiona Fletcher Reid
playlist private, made for two // moments stacking, crisis due
Read More »by Lauren Goulette
Read More »I will stop trying to bite the hand that tends to me and let the washcloth run between my eyes.
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