All hands to pump there’s been trouble at the mill. Pitchforks brandished at the secret forest still. Damp moss smoke concealed by the silhouetted ceiling of birch, hazel, and sycamore. Furthermore, still caught in the depths of my first thoughts, thwarted, caught inside the contraction of falling underneath the weight of a wave whilst dancing in the foothills & … [Read more...] about Trouble At The Mill, By: Jonathan Conde
I Am Used To Being Held, By: Stevie Green
My mother held me in her womb, did what she could to keep me alive until I was cut out screaming and covered in fat. It’s where I developed a taste for it and I have been coming and going ever since. A few more years later then I was on my own. Still screaming. Still covered.Then I made my home in other people’s arms, let me hold me and try me on for size. Built the capacity to … [Read more...] about I Am Used To Being Held, By: Stevie Green
Advice On Forever, By: Andrew Cyr
I visited Darleneafter the sun fellbelow the horizon.I kicked off my shoesand set them besidethe hall closet.The fireplace flickeredand cracked over maple logs.The TV played,but the sound was off.Darlene had her glasseson, licking her fingeras she flipped throughthe pages of a Bible.She sipped wine.Darlene stood and gave meher friendly hug.An evergreen candle dancedthrough the … [Read more...] about Advice On Forever, By: Andrew Cyr
Feelings Of A Noble Biscayan At One Of Those Funerals, By: William Wordsworth
Yet, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our FoesWith firmer soul, yet labour to regainOur ancient freedom; else 'twere worse than vainTo gather round the bier these festal shows.A garland fashioned of the pure white roseBecomes not one whose father is a slave:Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave!These venerable mountains now encloseA people sunk in apathy and fear.If this endure, … [Read more...] about Feelings Of A Noble Biscayan At One Of Those Funerals, By: William Wordsworth