My Forecast

by John Grey Snow falls on snow.  And, in between,  I trudge.    Yes it’s beautiful  but it chills my bones.  It decorates.  It beautifies.  But my fingers freeze  despite my gloves.    I am on my way  to a place   that will offer me  radiance and discomfort  in equal abundance.    The weather forecaster   got… Continue reading My Forecast

The Small World

by John Grey It’s blanched white tunnels that tube-worms dig, swirling around in complex patterns like the trail of a child’s finger in cake frosting. Or the emerald gleam of glowworms. Or tiny scarlet and blue-jeweled crabs. The world offers small as much as it does large. A lizard stares up at me from beneath… Continue reading The Small World

Interesting

By John Grey I use that horrible   coward’s word “interesting”  to describe your painting.  Bad move.  Now I have to find a way  to fire myself as art critic,  be hired on as lover.    To be honest,   the canvas looks like   an unholy mess   of blotches and streaks,  scrawl and scribble.  But that’s an… Continue reading Interesting

Circular 2/15/20

PROSE From Fictive Dream: Pickers by D.S. Levy. A garage sale brings back old memories for a woman unusually devoid of sentimentality. Right, Colleen thought, just like the cow would match the purple moon hanging over their house. § From Jokes Review: ...In Space! A new issue of the satirical magazine. Will there be milk… Continue reading Circular 2/15/20

Circular 2/1/20

PROSE From Cajun Mutt Press: Little Hymn In One Part by Mike James. "Once, he found a perfectly good leather dog leash re-used to wrangle passing clouds." (James, Little Hymn In One Part) ♦ From Every Day Fiction: Marathon Girl by Tim Boiteau. "Water station nine. Hydration, raisins, and knives, knives, knives. Knives for slashing,… Continue reading Circular 2/1/20

Circular 1/22/20

PROSE From Fictive Dream: Delirium by John C. Mannone. "The brick-lumps sifted through the black morph into swarms of fire ants with glassy-grit teeth." (Delirium) From Spelk: Letters to Dead People by Foster Trecost. “I sometimes write letters to my father, but he doesn’t read them.” “How do you know?” “Because dead people can’t read… Continue reading Circular 1/22/20

Verse & Prose Archive Updated For The Month of November

Our archive has been fully updated for the month of November (featuring new verse and prose). The archive will be similarly updated towards the end of December or directly thereafter (in early January). Additionally, we will be accepting verse, prose and music submissions throughout the month of December. If interested in submitting your work, see… Continue reading Verse & Prose Archive Updated For The Month of November