This is the latest in Meg Tuite’s Exquisite Duet. To go to the column page, please click here. “Chiarascuro” by Michelle Reale No one was awake when it happened Not even me, whose eyes were gaping Yet unseeing, unbelieving. Forget the young ones Who longed for reassurance There were limitations a mile long and a […]
“Bigfoot and Me” by Margaret A. Frey
March 21, 2013 by 10 Comments
Bigfoot lives in my neighborhood. No one believes me but I see him everyday. Mr. B hides in plain sight, his gigantic foot and hairy toes nestled amidst tangled roots, his rugged coat blending with massive pitch pine and cedar. On our daily walks, my Airedale Charlie ignores the rough giant, a truce between wild […]
“The World According to My Heart” by Lauren Yates
March 20, 2013 by 1 Comment
I. There is only room for one. Concrete chairs keep the curious at bay. No one loiters here. Once a wayfaring stranger didn’t mind the grit: the cold grey contoured to his body. II. Our story captured in one shot. An aesthetic choice? We couldn’t afford more film. III. I did not want, until you […]
Colin Dickey’s The Canny Valley: Social Memoir
March 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment
This is the latest in Colin Dickey’s The Canny Valley. To go to the column page, please click here. There’s nothing more disposable, more abject, more forgettable, than an Internet meme. They flash up in an instant, captivate instantly, but are inevitably fleeting, and after a few weeks they’re detritus, cast off, barely remembered. I’d wager, […]
“Scrapbooking” by Mary Stone Dockery
March 5, 2013 by Leave a Comment
Who are all these blondes and where were they my whole life after you left me to this dark-haired family? Here, my dress is navy with long sleeves and a white smock over it. The bride stands in a full white dress, her body covered except the area right above her chest, and then it’s […]
Four poems by Parker Tettleton
March 5, 2013 by 1 Comment
I Believe As Much As Little, That’s The Title, The Title Is That When you aren’t surprised by love in a tent you’re asking, asked about the digital blinking, window hangman or woman lips, hips hung on designer indecision, the silence broken by eyelids whether they’re why or how. She turns herself so I see […]
