Ken Craft
The dog chewed the leather bookmark
you made me last Christmas.
I left it on the floor while reading that
book about diet and pain you bought,
as if all this can be laid at the feet
Read MoreHolly Allen
We pile onto the creaking couch,
its skin splitting,
its legs moaning,
like young chicks in a feathered pile,
Read MoreIan Von Fange
Down forty yards of slow-sloping hill with his long thin pole
bobbing, curved taut with the line, he finally reaches the lake and sets
his chair and cracks a beer and waits.
Read MoreV. Joshua Adams
Lacy, leafless Chinese elms
canopy a man in brown.
Public housing trailers peel
but the home for sex offenders
Read MoreJudith Skillman
Carried from one bed to the next,
deposited beneath covers, expected
to sleep, hounded and scorned
Read MoreRobert Beveridge
The rose bushes around your hut
have grown wild for so long you
no longer remember what topiary
animals they were carved into. All
you remember is that while sand
erodes almost anything,
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