Author: Flora Ashe
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Winter Tracking by Renée Francoeur
When my father saw his tundra wolfIn the winter of 1985He didn’t know it was meMuskoxenRotting purple in my bellyKrummholz treesReflecting in my pupilsWreathed in mustardFur the colour his beard would turnPlastered to the ice roadTongue turned whiteHe stopped his truck And held my headIn the middle of nothingnessNahanni’s black sprucesReaching from the shadowsThe ashen snow…
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Ghost by Anthony Emerson
“Ghost” by Anthony Emerson, explores the ethereal nature of love and the world. Anthony lives and writes at the edge of the North Maine Woods. More of his work can be found published elsewhere.
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Smoke and Ashes by Stephen Spotte
My father’s cigar-smoking, or rather its imminent threat, had caused our banishment to the porch. After supper, Dad had taken a cigar from his shirt pocket with the practiced deliberation of an actor. Mom, recognizing the cue as hers, stood and began clearing the dishes. “Marcel,” she said, “you’re not going to smoke that…
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The Lady By Shruti Vij
Medium: Acrylics on canvas Size: 24 inches x 36 inches Shruti loves doing mainly abstract and mixed media artworks that don’t subscribe to complicated concepts. Her idea of art is simple beauty.
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Robin Says, Spring is Here By Edward Michael Supranowicz
Edward Michael Supranowicz is an Appalachian native. He has had artwork and poems published in the US and other countries.
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Dogeared By Basil Humphrey
I am well worn, thumbed through, creased at the edgesAlways stuck on the same page, always mid-sentence,I can neither avert my eyes, turn thoughts, nor paperFor it is my life’s work, knowing something of what’s gone beforeBut no clarity as to what comes nextI live in the now of uncertaintyNo future, beyond skittish dreamsMy imprint…
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A Different Kind of Game By Loren Meza
Right now I’m sitting alone in my favorite bistro. A cocktail or two, some delicious comfort food, and possibilities, all lie in waiting. Nights like this call for red lipstick. Nights where, no one you already know can make up for the crappy day you’ve had. The ones where existential crises dictate the order of…
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Curtain Room Still by Joas Nebe
‘It’s a never-ending game of disintegration. I challenge the viewer by not living up to their expectations. I am denying the satisfaction of solving the riddle, hidden within the depth of my artwork.’ By turning his filmic cabinet of curiosity into an intriguing jigsaw puzzle of hybrid geometric patterns, Joas Nebe teases the viewer into accessing his game.…
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Kaleidoscope By Susan Cornford
“I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up all over my wedding dress!” I said. “Breathe,” my friend, Monica, replied. I breathed. I didn’t throw up. It was past the time of morning sickness so something else was wrong. The woman in the mirror in front of me reapplied the…