Friday, March 23, 2018. Three Poems by Victoria Crawford. Shaking her sky blue skirts,. Free dinner, strutting,. And spreads his tail for. Next season will see young pigeons. Two doves, neat checkered. Necks, lurk on the fringes. Nest waits in a broad-leafed. Old tree, no eggs yet. A breeze quivers heavy seeded.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018. In addition, we will be opening submissions for a new, annual print journal, Red Raven Review,. For details check out the guidelines page Here! .

Where words come to burn . Kind of a Hurricane Press. Wednesday, July 1, 2015. Three Poems by April Salzano. My Grandmother and a Baked Potato. At the deli, she wants to know. If they will wrap it up. I point to the foil,. Trying not to make a face that mocks. The Great Depression mentality, the need. To know that half can be saved for later. We have stood in the long line counting. Chicken is nothing without two fresh sides. The sun is an opiate, giant.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015. A Poem by Michael Lee Johnson. I love the walk on the isle. I stand on solid ground. You preach to me,. And Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago Poems. He also has over 70 poetry videos on YouTube. I will tell the b.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015. Three Poems by April Salzano. I travel the length of your name. Down a driveway that is no longer. Ours, my pace slower than it should be. In the middle of another winter. Of snow has fallen between every yesterday. The good thing about a prison. From down here, everything. Looks the same as the day we left,.

Kind of a Hurricane Press. Wednesday, August 12, 2015. All Right Already - Bruce McRae. The Durability of Boredom - M. Drew Williams eBook Here! Saturday, January 24, 2015. Flying South - Chella Courington. And The Los Angeles Review. With another writer and two cats, she lives in the West. Sunday, December 7, 2014.

Kind of a Hurricane Press. Saturday, February 28, 2015. The Results Are In! Scavenger Hunt by Donna Barkman . The boy was devising a game for his father. Who might soon wake from a nap, his third that day. He called his son the boy. Knife had sliced most names from his memory. When they were playing pirates.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015. Flash Fiction by Stephen V. A Moment When I Was Young. Pretty, perky, quick to quip, she would have been perfect for me. But, of course, we would never have met if not for Felix. And Felix was my friend. I ran into her at a Kappa Sigma. She said with a grin. She was the only person who called me that, and it connected us somehow. Want me to get you another beer? .

Prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Renaissance Revolution of the Phoenix Generation. Bigger Bang for the Buck. During this dark age interlude. Through the hearts and minds. Flayed on the cross of ignorance. Fried in a pan of splintered oil. A worm in the system. A lie in the core of the apple. Of fucking around with the shadows.