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PoetryDecember Now That It Has Told Its Story By Ken L. Jones
The last days of this year are like an old staircase That I don’t have to pay much attention to as it gets climbed And so I become overwhelmed by crisp air…
PoetryThe Honesty of Hands By Tommasina Domel
All the words in all the worlds can never confess more than my hands. Read my hands like a tome. Feel the terrain with your fingers like braille. See the constellations like…
PoetryAssateague Saturday Night By Maria DePaul
When the sun sets behind the dunes, The sky slips from orange To indigo, and we gather kindling To light a campfire. Beachcombers pack up To go to dinner, but we Huddle…
FictionLegendary By Alyssa Murphy
I wasn’t quite sure why my boss decided that Thursday-night karaoke would be a real moneymaker. Then again, Laura was prone to unusual decisions that worked better than anyone expected (see: serving…