Writing is an act of resistance
-
tree : forest :: ad : internet
By Elizabeth Shack This tiny house boasts sustainability:energy-efficient electric appliances,shaded southern windows for leafy sun,a wood stove for cozy northern nights. This tiny house is a Facebook ad,a leaf in an AI-generated photo forestwhere an algorithm squirrels seeds of my attention. I’ve spent more time lookingfor DIY backyard forests, urban orchards,and how to help wild…
-
Election Day
By Diane Vogel Ferri Election day is a carnival ride of hopeand despair, each taking their fluctuating turns. In the back yard, birds and squirrelscontinue coexisting, while we, the supposedly more evolved, battle through every Novemberand false ad. The downy woodpecker hammers away at the side of the house and I don’t carebecause she’s committed…
-
I Believe Her
By Matthew Donovan I believe her becauseher story gains her nothing.Some of those she tellssay she’s seeking attention. They say she’s ruininghis reputation. I believe her becauseit happens each day.And because it’s in me to do what she says was done. I believe her because she,not I—lived it. Those thatcling to power deny it, orsay it’s forgivableboys’ behavior. I believe her becausewe…
-
Beware the Homo Sapiens
By Robyn Bashaw “Don’t!” Eeip closes his mitt over Swee’s, stopping her from placing the bone into the waiting psittaciforme’s beak. Eeip pulls the bone from Swee’s grasp, tossing it in the Trash Trench where it lands between a rusty fork with its one twisted tine veering right and a single brass earring with its…
-
Sisters
By Kate Rogers – After Marta Ziemelis My friend, in Canada 12 years,a citizen now, fled Iranto let her shining dark curls, fragrantwith coconut oil, flow freeof the restraining cowlimposed by men unwillingto incarcerate their own desire.Her locks tumbling looseover her shoulders, she chose exile,yearning to love whomever she wants. Mahsa Amini, red-lipped,only…
-
Respect
By Rachel Turney Artist’s StatementI am an educator who works in two roles. I coach and supervise new teachers and teach immigrants and refugees. Education as a general theme influences my work. I write a lot about my childhood, which I call suburban dramatic. It is a rose: alluring, sweet, but thorned. Growing up in…
-
Endless War
Poetry, Palestine, Israel, Linda Bamber, Hamas, Balfour Declaration, Middle East conflicts, war poetryBy Linda Bamber Cassandra swore there was no Gulf of Tonkinbut of courseno one believed her.She knew the Trojan Horse was loaded with deathand that there were no WMD’s in Iraq and if Paris, her brother, stole HelenTroy would falland all its people be enslaved.Then the Pentagon Papers came out.Didn’t I . . . ?…
-
The Coming
By Craig Kirchner His wife rushed in looking like she couldn’t breathe.They’re coming, the man at the gate told me.They call ahead so he is not an issue. We have an hour. He printed out all the poems and put them in a box,buried them in the woods behind the condo,gave his wife the key…
-
French Kissed
By Angela Townsend I went back to Frenchtown, but Frenchtown could not come back to me. Frenchtown is the daintiest of the “river towns,” a flower crown ringing the Delaware. They hold hands across two states. They hold out bread for every stranger. Nothing snide can survive this soil. New Hope remembers its own name…