The big sellers were my husband’s items: Electric paint roller Gun case A tree limb saw resembling the Grim Reaper’s scythe. My possessions proved less marketable: A few paperbacks Embarrassing, deeply discounted DVDs like the original Final Destination movie Old literature textbooks languishing in the “free to a good home” box Great works dismissed with, […]
Subdivision Yard Sale Read More »
since when have we been afraid to swim in the deep, those rock-bottom dark depths that choke and twist? don’t forget that air changes down there or what your body feels like, limping without breath bobbing as boats push water from above. it’s smooth and loose and mellows like love. *** Linda Battson is a
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By Janayva Solis Born in Cheyenne, Wyoming, 911 Dispatcher Janayva Solis grew up in Colorado Springs, Colorado. She is fond of the outdoors. Hiking, camping, traveling, and adventures have always been her hobbies. Janayva’s bucket list consists of traveling to every state and eating food she can barely pronounce. She tries to learn a new
More than a Phone Call: The Life of a 911 Dispatcher Read More »
there’s a late night louisiana caw in the corner a humid grey night gurgle, glogging its treble birdy nightsong between folds of wet air. focus on that, I say. see the way this night does not contrast much with the tree right there, that reaching night tree, ripe in shadow and heavy with day gone
Dillard and Woolf waxed elegiac over its immolation in a candle’s flame—overcome, I imagine, by the surrealism of the juxtaposition: a single, innocuous wick lit to guide the path of the writer’s words morphs into a luminous siren calling a foundering craft to its swift and fiery end. But for me, a writer with no
Silence Sounds of words unspoken Words unheard Words, words, words Won’t stop dropping pen tops Won’t stop jumping roadblocks Won’t stop chucking hard knocks And I can’t keep calling time fake I can’t sleep so I stay awake Thinking second belated Backwards ratings about past Relationships. I’ve got some frustrations. Let me tip my hat