Untitled by Brandon Grinslade

27 Mar

I want you to know you were loved. Not in any way that speaks to meaningful experience or shared history, just loved. In the week you were alive I spent every second going to you and in that final moment though you’d never know who I was…you were loved.

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The Length of the Barrel Is Longer Than It Seems by Cameron Little

27 Mar

As the sun began to hide itself, the cool desert air became the harshest reality. I wasn’t here to make amends or to cast out any demons. My job was simple. My intentions were merely purposefully naive and indifferent. This man must die. And I was his trigger happy savior.

Left Wanting by Ryann Dove

27 Mar

That time again. Shark week, my friends like to call it. Another week like this has come, another month has passed, and still nothing. At least I can take comfort in a glass of red wine and the purring cat curled up against my belly which must, for now, suffice.

Running Too Hard by Ryann Dove

27 Mar

You told me to push. My chest heaves, yet I cannot breathe. My heart pounds in my ears; too loud, too fast. The air conditioning does little to ease the burn. Petty Officer, why are you so blurry? Where did that wall come from? No, the floor is fine, thanks.

Desire by Dawn Aulet

27 Mar

I want peace in my heart…
The ability to know the choices I have made and those that are to come are the right ones. I want to know, no, to feel that I cannot make a mistake, that the path I am on is right and righteous and true.

The Writer’s Prayer by Carolyn Neumann

27 Mar

I want the words and worlds inside my head to spill out on the page thick and compelling, exactly as I see them: vivid, screaming in wild gestures of the grandest moments of the cunning, charming, gorgeous, gritty characters and the lives they lead that bestow joy, comfort, and wisdom.

Untitled by Brandon Grinslade

27 Mar

They called him Charlie. Not because that was his name, but because he was Vietnamese. That sort of overt racism in the face of overwhelming diversity was a hallmark of the assorted criminal factions that haunted the alleyways and warehouse loading docks of Chinatown. Especially on a night like tonight

I Run by Jimmy Reckitt

27 Mar

I run.

…;

In perpetuity, I run.

……;

Along life’s plotted course, I run.

……;_____________________________

To pass other runners, I run faster.

…;;;…;;;…………..;_________________

Spotting success, I accelerate. Can I catch it?

…;;;..;;;…………………;________…..$__

Entropy looms. I accelerate again, lest entropy catch me.

………….@;__….;____________________

But why?

…………….@;_____……….;____________

I’ll tire eventually.

….@____________………………..;_______

But no one runs forever, right?

………………………….;_________________

Right???

…………………;__________….$_________

Is this worthwhile?

….;________________________…….$___

Untitled by Brandon Grinslade

27 Mar

Cow *breath* ard. At this speed even my thoughts are split with panting. My feet slam into the ground feeling like they’re tied to cinder blocks, legs burning. My prey darts like something that only has to run when threatened, always a coward. I leap and feel impact then…blood.

Run by Carolyn Neumann

27 Mar

I want to stretch my legs in directions that lead away from your shadow, that as I sit stagnant, makes the horizon of possibilities, multitudes of plain and striped paths, but threatens to rob the cool from my breath and replace it with fire on my tongue and skin.

Untitled by Brandon Grinslade

27 Mar

Rain spattered on the Kanji and Hanyu signs glowing bright in the schizophrenic web of streets and alleyways that made of the city’s “International district”. Chinese mixed with Japanese, with Korean, with many more, and amid the twisting labyrinth of neon characters and gilded dragons there hung an uneasy tension.

The Roman by Shane Tierney

27 Mar

The sun beats down on his blood soaked face. He stares at the body lying in the sand, pouring out its life. He raises his sword in triumph, the cheers echoing louder. He faces the Coliseum, smiling at the glory he has earned. The Glory of Rome.

Yes, Please by Dawn Aulet

27 Mar

Sitting on my couch with a stupid grin on my face.
You called and talked about nothing but work and bills
Still, here I find myself with a Cheshire Cat grin of happiness.
The mundane brings me joy – just being near you, ecstasy.
I want to feel this way always.

Spitting Names by Carolyn Neumann

27 Mar

One ex, I say his name like spitting tacks, the metal tainting the juices in my mouth. Another, I barely mention, but when I do it’s with weak lips to match his courage. A different beau, his name tastes like overcooked steak, tough, unforgiving, hurts to chew, more-so to swallow.

My Name by Carolyn Neumann

27 Mar

My name, like skin, is laid bare when it comes into the world. The words that comes before herald its significance, the words that follow, the deeds yet to be done. Do not shorten it or you trivialize me. Take care with it, for it does not belong to you.

Saying Your Name by Carolyn Neumann

27 Mar

Your name, when it forms in my mind, is an exclamation, like saying “Ice Cream!” when the sun sizzles, but when it passes my lips, it’s a whisper as I try to be careful with each consonant and vowel, caressing the sounds as they pass from me to the world.

Dawn by Dawn Aulet

27 Mar

It flows like water, sounds like beautiful music
When you say my name, it is like a sunrise. You make it mean the truth.
I melt, I crumble, I am helpless to fight that feeling
Like a bass string humming inside me, like all the energy from a full moon.

(Say my name)

THE INFLUENCE OF ONE: PROSE TO A FALLEN SAINT: Life is Finite, Influence is Infinite by Mike Eulitz

27 Mar

We will recover from the loss of your life,
we will never recover from the absence of your happiness.
Your name may be forgotten in time,
the way in which you lived will never be forgotten.
89 years is a long life, but to us, 89 years was too short

THE INFLUENCE OF ONE: PROSE TO A FALLEN SAINT: The Joy of Life Eclipses the Agony of Death by Mike Eulitz

27 Mar

the ending of your life caused much agony
the living of your life caused much joy
you will live on in the way you showed us how to live
you will live on in the lessons you taught us
you will live on in our memories
you will live on

THE INFLUENCE OF ONE: PROSE TO A FALLEN SAINT: Roots by Mike Eulitz

27 Mar

You are the root on which this family of trees was built
Your seeds have given root to ten new trees
Those trees have given root to seventeen new trees
This endless cycle of new birth
only possible because of you
your endless roots gave nourishment for us to flourish

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