Author: admin

THE MOTHS ATE IT ANDREW PELFINI

Black Friday, how absurd, Jacob thought. Sheep following a train of advertisements. Every day was Black Friday for him. He shops as if there are no restraints, often forgets what he already has in his closets, his dresser, his...

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MAYBE SOMEDAY BY STEPHEN BRAYTON

Emerging from the trees, they saw the granite dome of Kaaterskill Mountain rising before them. Surprisingly, the normally crowded summit was devoid of hikers on this September Saturday. “Can it be? We’ve got the top to...

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THE BIG APPLE BY ANDREW SHATTUCK MCBRIDE

Madeline asked if I would go with her to Radio City Music Hall for a show. I was naïve and young; she was pretty. We left New Haven by train, were deposited on Manhattan’s bright, teeming shore one crisp winter’s night. In the...

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DO IT AGAIN ROAD BY ANDREW SHATTUCK MCBRIDE

Puna District, Island of Hawai‘i Dad drives a stretch of roadway with dips and rises. He accelerates, and his Datsun hatchback leaves pavement and earth briefly, and my stomach backflips through delight. Laughing, I urge Dad, do...

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ALL OUR TOMORROWS BY ANDREW SHATTUCK MCBRIDE

The human challenge, in brief— our world ends in fire. Some choose grief. All our tomorrows start now. Let’s not choose despair or a row. One simple, elegant fact: It’s never too late. Choose to act. Set a person free. Plant a...

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ALMOST WINTER BY CATHARINE QUILLEN DORNIN

The Long Arms of our Maple Tree Stretch imploringly up to the sky, Palms held open- Waiting for the gentle first Descent of Snow And Perfect Peace. I sit in my Winter Chair by my Window And think how incredible it is to be at...

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VALENTINE’S DAY FOREVER BY CATHARINE DORNIN

This morning, as I lay in my Love’s Arms, The Purity of the newly Fallen Snow Swept Past our Bedroom Window And Whispered Softly and Gracefully to us. Its Lovely White Wings, Spreading over our Entire Long Yard, and Disappearing...

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THE ONGOING BY CATHARINE QUILLEN DORNIN

My Mother Told me on one Long, Hot Summer Afternoon When she was Gravely Ill, “You and Your Children are The Ongoing of my Life.” She Tipped her White, Beautifully Coiffed Head Back into the Wing Of her Favorite Armchair and...

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POETRY HOUSE BY CATHARINE DORNIN

Mysterious house, poetry house, House fingered by the early morning light, feathery, fluffy- Sparkling, sifted and sorted by the fingers of the wind, House hugged by the long arms of time- Remembering the voices of the past....

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SELLING THE WOODS BY GENE HYDE

The forest once reached to the sea, before trees were products but rather a reliable source of sustenance. These oft-trod woods, crammed between roads and houses, overwhelmed by poison ivy, have become a commodity, a box of...

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