Some people drop quarters in now, not just pennies like they used to. When I was a kid, a quarter was gold. It bought five candy bars or five bags of M&Ms. A baby tooth under my pillow, tied in the knot of my cotton...
Read MoreAfter the leaves fall, I can see the neighbors’ house. People I don’t know who live on the other side of the woods. When walking my field with the dogs before bed, I notice someone stays up late, a distant window glowing through...
Read Morein Concert at the Church Hall at Easter Their souls became the music scaling merry eighth notes set in triple meter time the aging minister bowed over his graceful fingers rippling the grand white grin of the keyboard unaware...
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Michael C. Roberts painted rocks during the pandemic and dropped them around the...
Read MoreWe all die in the third act. It’s a truth I carry around like a hot coal waiting for the right barbecue party to flip it on the family, show my blistered palms, marvel at the icy looks of surprise. Maybe after dessert, during...
Read Morestark remembrance of this room with twisted toil in blood, in bloom and skewed insanities all round that fade, fall, die without a sound Jay Goldin works in academia and journalism. He has published poetry, fiction, film...
Read More“Hello.” Open line sounds, but no voice; “Hello.” Now I recognize it, it’s the pause before the human comes on once the dialing app has reported that I’ve stopped eating dinner to answer the phone. I start to hang up. “Theresa?”...
Read MoreI did not cause the earth to orbit the sun; or the moon to orbit the earth. I did not put clouds in the sky, thunder and lightning, or cause rain to fall. I did not cause this shifting earth to create mountains, flowing rivers,...
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