Eleanor | Lorynn Hackert
Eleanor was happy to be home. Her small (although she prefers the word comfortable) apartment served as a silent sanctuary in a world that seemed all too loud most days Read More …
The Literary Magazine of West Shore Community College
Eleanor was happy to be home. Her small (although she prefers the word comfortable) apartment served as a silent sanctuary in a world that seemed all too loud most days Read More …
The icecaps melted— In the frozen lake ahead. Summer, is coming. Stars in the night sky, fireworks on the fourth of July— The future is bright. Leaves fall around me, Read More …
The Fallen Child As He bore the sight of a golden chariot crossing above Poseidon, The prophetic God felt hellfire sear His back. Fear and glee swelled in His chest, Read More …
There wasn’t another house, shop, farm, or any indication of civilization for miles. Oliver knew this from the sleepless nights he’d spent up in the library. He didn’t dare ask Read More …
When I close my eyes I see yours, and his, and his, too, staring back at me. The love(s) of my life. You are always watching me, and you don’t Read More …
In the middle of the meadow, a weeping willow, quiet, still— until a gentle breeze blew. A meadow filled with wildflowers of many colors waiting for someone to pick— shared Read More …
The women gather to take up space heaving their weighty bodies into tippy metal lawn chairs They laugh so large you can see the backs of their throats and cry Read More …
Spring The soft lamp light on the cold glass window lit the rain on the other side. Summer The morning rain was hot beneath my calloused feet— the sun’s rays Read More …
We sat in unsteady chairs, mosquitos whirring in our ears, the fire belching sparks into the black You stretched towards me with softened hands I stilled You slipped on my Read More …
Three years ago, they spent a weekend away, just the two of them. They drank mimosas in bed, soaking in a giant tub big enough for two and making love Read More …
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Your words hold me But your breath forgot to Catch me. How can I love? When the only way I know how to Is in the way you left me? Read More …
You left me this way. A body blown apart by fast moving metal. Fur, feathers, feces, flattened between the cracks of the hot August pavement. What is left of the Read More …
Bedlam trembles in the theatre. Red mist rises numinous in the morning light. Rising up past Pompey, encased in stone, watching, imperious. Up, past spiteful Brutus, unsteady as he is Read More …
Our bones will lie beneath gravestones that read Died At Her Goal Weight. We will smile as the cold Earth hugs us, for we are finally in the body that Read More …
There she stood. Rigid and shivering in the cold, coat collar upturned against the howling wind. Her mane of raven hair was flying around her porcelain face, which was turned Read More …
Seed after seed after seed after stalk Growth of weeds and trepidation of block. Lingering ennui, if not now, when? The ambivalence of beginning over again. ~Darby Johnsen
I’d only come to the store for some groceries on my way home from the bank and didn’t plan to linger. I didn’t dress for it, either, in baggy jeans Read More …
After the sixth grade graduation, her father would have to go back to Los Angeles. The thirteen-year-old girl, when she eventually grew up to become a woman, never remembered wearing Read More …
Miles of sage green grass, pursued by a gentle river, lead to beautiful meadows. ~Emily Dykman
[In this excerpt from Caleb Duran’s short story “And Thus the Sands of Time Blow,” the village hunters and the main character, Petros, prepare to hunt the Great Beasts, their Read More …
Should give it fifteen but I’ll only give ten. Late again. It’s a wonder you still call me friend. And I’m so sorry, bro—Oh, the shit you put up with Read More …
Consider me a motel, convenient and on your way. Easy and inviting. A blooming neon sign, soft cursive above the highway. Leave your sheets undone and the TV on, no Read More …
private property signs littered beaches yachts bobbed beside reserved shores curious toes tipped an invisible fence a barrier loathed with no hope to repent my exhaust hiccuped and Read More …
rose-colored glass framed in the walls of a chapel panes slicked with rain sunlight falters just outside I still sing in your choir hoarse in the shadow of your pulpit Read More …
For Joshua Walker 1 An empty room— A chair, metal and cold A single light bulb, also cold. In the street, a torn scrap of newsprint flutters, gutters Read More …
The day was dark, even though the sun shone, it was dark. The air felt heavy, every breath a forceful event. I closed my eyes, hoping it would fade, that Read More …
For Dan Connolly, Geoff Kramer, and John Wolff The giant, hand-painted, fiercely weather-beaten sign has read BLA for twenty years now. Ever since Riley Zwiecki’s truck leapt out Read More …
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to truly experience your dreams? What about your darkest nightmares? What if you could close your eyes and be sent into Read More …
And he was only nineteen with Ireland just becoming real to him, sitting in the Brazen Head, Dublin’s oldest pub, listening to “Fisherman’s Blues” from the live band and shyly Read More …
Where does a person end and begin? ~Lawrence Kushner i.e., when we take a single breath, we take in a single molecule from Caesar’s last exhalation. ~Enrico Fermi Read More …
My friend and I are driving in my beat up, soccer mom, minivan searching for abandoned buildings to look at when I ask her if she wants to see where I grew up. Her Read More …
Shaking beneath A thin layer of varicose veins And stretched out skin Lies A sobering solace A terrifying shift —I never wanted this —Marina Falkowski
There was no time for sightseeing or exploring today. Orange is not the predominant color one might expect to see in the forests of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula. The green seas Read More …
1. “These hallways are riot proof” my friend tells me as I run the tips of my chewed down fingers over cinder blocks smoothed by pale yellow paint. “It was Read More …
What are motes? We wonder aloud, not quite caring. They float in the air of this hot buttered car Get caught in your hair And we breathe them, Read More …
Editor’s note: The author of “Moving” has this to say about his work: [Moving is an interactive poem which is built on gaming ideas. The poem invites audiences to participate Read More …
It was a long way to shore. She was drifting. A minute ago, she’d been standing—feet sinking too deep into the soft bottom of the little pond. She’d been squealing Read More …
The crash is both sudden and infinite. Safe-coated glass from my windshield floats serene around me—that frozen cracked-ice breaking noise stretched impossibly both long and wide—glass suspended, held glittering up Read More …
It was my cat what first saw it—what first saw him, that is. My little cat, strolling right up to the corpse and licking at its unseeing eyeball—his eyeball, for Read More …
Kingsley called them the Oldguns. The Delvers guided a crate of them onto the hook, swinging about as upon a countenance of its own. Repstein, manning the claw above, lowered Read More …