Marco Melfi
I scan, in a windowless room
walled with high def TVs,
the trucking and travel of this city’s
major arteries. It’s later than late night.
K.G. Newman
Father pioneered analytics in Netscape forums
and this was debate time.
Mother drank. I Nintendo’d intently
with a game full of little hopes.
Caroline Neel
New Year's Day and I burn my tongue
as I try with sweet and cream to dull
the morning ache of a train
searing through the countryside
Cara Lang
We chug along, the sun rising like a paintbrush dipped in orange, fiery hot. Stacks of wood and other industrial materials teeter on the banks. Water. Waves — are they waves? — ripple calmly like someone stirring in morning's first hint of wakefulness.
Read MoreRiede Faires
Fully crush, pulled beneath, drag along to totally quenched and
all so quash
like a leaf on a lake.
Read MoreN.L.H. Hattam
Hello my name is [An Anachronism].
Did I ever tell you I was afraid of becoming obsolete?
Ann Wallace
She will never tell you
but the girl who shrugs
away from your touch,
who faces you
with chin down, eyes up,
slips from sight
as all eyes are watching,
feels anything but coy.
Matan Gold
My grandmother was born in D.F. but grew up in Cuba. Her father owned a sugar factory. He had strong arms and an elegant mustache. It was a life of tropical birds.
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