Delores (Part One) by Esther Cohen
Sep10

Delores (Part One) by Esther Cohen

  “Delores (Part One)” by Esther Cohen   My friend Delores she’s 82 beautiful missing a few body parts doesn’t let that get
in her way makes money
cleaning houses handsome lover named Jim one good leg
 that’s enough for me said Delores she got a big turkey
for 8 dollars at Shoprite invited some people made 3 kinds
of cookies including pumpkin oatmeal my friend Delores says
she’s grateful for what she
has for what...

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Before the Show by Donna J. Gelagotis Lee
Sep10

Before the Show by Donna J. Gelagotis Lee

  “Before the Show” by Donna J. Gelagotis Lee   Under the lone light bulb like a fluorescent moon,          with the smell of wood, concrete under our feet. Clip clock. The snap of the crossties to          the halter. I comb the mane until it’s silky & you separate the thin strands of hair and cross each one...

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Acts of Bravery by Lois Bradley
Feb26

Acts of Bravery by Lois Bradley

  “Acts of Bravery, Day 1 & 3” by Lois Bradley     It would be easier to allow the current to take me swirling, bobbing about in half-lidded repose. But that is not where my artwork happens. Artwork that means something is not created in a languorous vaccum, but when my mind is tense. Alert. Engaged. Open.   ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here   Lois Bradley...

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Bracelets by G. Evelyn Lampart
Sep23

Bracelets by G. Evelyn Lampart

  Bracelets by G. Evelyn Lampart   Sophie is wearing bracelets – I can hear them jangling. I can’t take my eyes off her face to look at them because she’ll think she isn’t interesting. That would break her stream of confidential I am special speak. She is talking non-stop again. About herself. Herself as a woman who is jealous of younger women, the 25-year-olds, with privilege, and with trust funds. I understand. I tell her...

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we should have by Carrie Nassif
Sep23

we should have by Carrie Nassif

  we should have By Carrie Nassif   we, the sisterhood of barbed wire museums who among us isn’t a collection of prickly, of misused connections of twisting pointed links crafted by thumb and elbow-grease once wound-tight-over-driftwood wires long since uncoiled from their uprights those fence-mending callouses all smoothed away with time it was yellow polaroids ago water over rocks under bridges we should have lassoed...

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