New poem by Cheney Crow: “The Grey Phone”
…
New poem by Cheney Crow: “The Grey Phone”
…
I swore I would never become a soldier like my mother. She called it a blip, a few months out of an otherwise enjoyab…
In the cold autumn dawn shadows blanket Othello Avenue, the parked cars and vans little more than gauzy, damp lumps, …
Take me to the alley Take me to the afflicted ones Take me to the lonely ones that Somehow lost their way …
my brother, the Marine the recruiters come weeks earlier than agreed— arrive in alloy, aluminum with authority…
There’s a solid history of stupid when it comes to fireworks at our family cabin at the corner of Pennsylvania…
Note: M.C. Armstrong’s new novel, ‘American Delphi,’ will be out October 15, 2022 from Milspeak Boo…
Viraj sat in a room behind the motel reception counter, eating a bowl of bhaat with his fingers when the desk bell ch…
Johnny felt the oak floor tilt sharply below him. He had no idea what was happening or why, and he was frightened. Th…
EACH NIGHT MY MOTHER DIES AGAIN Each night the phone rings— Your mother has passed. Each night I expect to be …
ABBA-1975 Abba’s lyrics, like water shot from La Bufadora, mingle with volcanic steam from metallic pots of corn. And…
Aphrodite Urania From a womb of foam I came to be a woman, heavenly gestated from Father, who also brought wea…
REHAB DAY 1 He hadn’t told me, hadn’t stopped drinking drank beer in the hallway near recycling where people b…
I don’t want to keep going back there. I’m damn near forty years old; too broke and tubby to deploy anymore. It’s my …
CONTENT WARNING: A hate crime against an Arab-American is committed in the story. Being an Arab-American myself, the …
GRASSES QUIVER BEFORE / image by Amalie Flynn ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVE In my dream Dad, age one hundred twelve, has…
that night we forgot for a whilethe broken country where we livedin hearts discontent walking backwardinto unicorns, …
When I was losing myself, the only thing that saved me was immigrating to America. Only then, with great effort and s…
The Staff Sergeant shifted in his tight, class-A uniform and frowned. Phones rang and keyboards, the primary weapon o…
A nuclear reactor is nothing more than a glorified water heater. Sailors as young as nineteen, kids, bombard uranium …
The first time I met you I fought your father in the driveway. He fisted a tire iron, but he’d been drinking and he o…
The Shoes That Bore Us It is a dream of kind slippers that coddle bunions appeasedby hands mittened as the same kind …
“Even if one does not know the history, one feels the presence of the past.” ~Peter Balakian “You have to beat the eg…
A Letter to Greta “…so pitying and yet so distant,” Cecil Beaton Among my father’s posthumous flotsam recently …
I. Under a ceiling topped by swirling fans and surrounded by walls whose windows had no glass, the Private lay…
When I was a child, and my father had just begun to be noticeably strange, my mother took me to the zoo. It was July,…
I went home to Jersey only once since the enlistment. I had to see my Ma. Back in the summer of 2011 I finished Basic…
victory conditions My father taught me to say I love you every time you stood in the door left for school went to wor…
Here’s an empty grave, where a body that had been a boy became bones beneath a wooden cross. They buried him with one…