Latest Art

Somewhere Finding Ferity by Jack Phillips

This dawn the equinox moon is waning a black belly with a left-handed crescent and waxing with frog bubbles puff-up sparrows ferny fiddleheads popping bloodroot in vernal burgeoning. Certain poets (the Beats in particular) prescribe some shack simple those rough-hewn days of dharmas and canned beans in a far-out hovel to revive the talent for…

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The Fall by Spencer Kern

In the early morning, before the sun rose and the town awoke, he stood barefoot on the cold mountain stone, awaiting his fate. It was here, high above the artifice and humanity below, atop the bluffs and outstretched overlook, that he stared at spear tips and determined faces ready to block his salvation. He was…

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