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Lauren Walker
Marilyn Gear Pilling
John Nuck
Twenty-two years ago, I earned a Masters of Arts degree in creative writing from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. I had been published in several small press magazines before entering the corporate world in 1988. I'm itching to get published again.
Hope
Dennis McLelland
The Old West has gripped my attention for years, especially intriguing characters such as “Liver Eating” Johnston (who purportedly ate the raw livers of his Native American enemies), Wild Bill Hickok, Doc Holiday, et al. I have completed a biography about Johnston entitled The Avenging Fury of the Plains. I…
Rick Lupert
Rick Lupert has been involved with poetry in Los Angeles since 1990. He is the recipient of the 2017 Ted Slade Award and the 2014 Beyond Baroque Literary Arts Center Distinguished Service Award, a three-time Pushcart Prize Nominee, and a Best of the Net nominee. He served as a co-director…
Emmalina Bear
Emmalina Bear is an artist based in Kent, with a penchant for the absurd. When not scribbling away short stories and poems (which she never gets around to sending off), she refashions found objects into clothes, artwork and instruments. Currently she is collaborating with the local Kent collective “Sealed with…
Danica Green
I am a UK-based writer of approximately everything who, since starting to submit writing to places for the first time in March, has been published, or accepted for publication, in 3:AM Magazine, PANK Magazine, Eclectic Flash Magazine, and over twenty anthologies by Silverland Press, Cinnamon Press, Lulu, Wicked East Press…
George Grace
George Grace is a visual artist, tournament chess player, playwright, fiction and nonfiction writer, and author of the poetry anthologies American Stonehenge and Other Poems (Circlformance Press) and soon-to-be published Night Wanes, Dawn and Wow, Philosophy (Writer's Den Books)—the latter of which will include the poem, “Bagging It”. He is…
Tim Goldstone
Poetry, short stories and articles published in various literary magazines, and included on BBC, Waterstone's, and Gloom Cupboard websites. Recipient of Welsh Arts Council short story masterclass scholarship. Prose sequence read on stage at The Hay Festival. Some material broadcast on BBC TV and radio, and performed in the theatre.…
Corey Ginsberg
Corey Ginsberg collects useless degrees, tennis shoes and obscure facts about The Beatles. She dislikes poodles and their stupid haircuts, the words “poop” and “gumshoe”, and hearing her voice recorded on answering machines. She spends far too much time wishing she was enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,…
Alice Friman
Alice Friman's newest collection of poetry is Vinculum from LSU Press. Work appears in The Best American Poetry 2009, The Georgia Review, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review, The Gettysburg Review, and in the forthcoming 2012 Pushcart Prize Anthology. Professor Emerita at the University of Indianapolis, Friman now lives in Milledgeville,…
Dale Dewoody
Dale Dewoody is finishing his dissertation in Creative Writing at the University of North Texas where he studied and worked as a Teaching Fellow while finishing the final draft of his first book. He recently accepted an adjunct instructor position at John Brown University in Siloam Springs. He hopes to…
John Crowley
My name is John. Or as I often get referred to, Wrong John. There is a story behind this title, but let's save that for another day. I work selling various products and services over the telephone by day, pulling pints at night, and this is all punctuated by frequently…
Catherine Affleck
Catherine has no credentials. She also thinks that in order to become a poet she must don all black, pick up smoking, and leer down suspiciously at strangers on the street through the window shades of her dimly lit apartment, the fridge of which contains nothing but film, wine and…
Amoja Sumler
While I was born in Chicago and proudly called it home for close to a decade, the South is where I've invested most of my time, heart and career. Poetry has long been my passion, and while I can boast a number of skills in critical theory and information technology,…
Megan Elaine Davis
While waiting for her two cats to start contributing to the household income, Megan Elaine Davis writes “from a small peninsula” while wrapped in a purple blanket. Born and raised in Maine, she moved from New England to Old Blighty in 2007 after marrying an Englishman. She has published three…
Jennifer Moore
When not moonlighting as a nappy rapper/diaper diva, Jennifer can usually be found writing children's books. She is a former winner of the Commonwealth Short Story Prize and won an Honorable Mention in the 2011 Wergle Flomp contest.
J.S. McTuile
Olaf Kroneman and Patricia Schultheis Win the 2013 Sports Fiction & Essay Contest
Dr. Olaf Kroneman of Birmingham, MI won first prize for fiction for his story “Fight Night”. Patricia Schultheis of Baltimore, MD won first prize for nonfiction for her essay “Skating to Seventy”. Each received $1,000. Total prizes of $3,500 were awarded. Read the complete release. Read the winning entries and…
Lauren Singer
Lauren Singer is an assistant judge of our Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest and North Street Book Prize, and a past judge of our Tom Howard/John H. Reid Fiction & Essay Contest. She is a native New Yorker living in Western Massachusetts. Her poetry has been published in Nerve House,…
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A Modern Wedding (with Monsters and Fights and Everything)
The path to the altar was long And strewn with divorcees The groom and the bride were strong Armed with love-induced glee. The bride had slain a slew of statistics, The groom skipped without further ado The mines of poisoned relationships; Like a battle cry, together they shouted 'I do!'…
The Condom in My Wallet
I carried it for years before I lost (as we knowingly said then) the Big V, like the coin of a country I wondered if I would ever visit. I think it cost a quarter, from one of those gas station or junior high school boys room vending machines— the…
The Ballad of Hillary Snow
It was common knowledge in that part of town (and in other precincts it was gaining some ground) that kids disliked playing with Hillary Snow because of the way that she carried on so whenever she felt like she had been slighted. It didn't take much to get her excited.…
Job Search
Graduation Day was months ago summer vacation's over you're in the real world now and… you have no money. Awesome. Okay, okay, don't panic. Go to the computer. Find out who is hiring. Search Engine: Local job openings Enter ... ... Oh, a cashier. At a fast food restaurant. You…
Hobosexuality
Kisses with no teeth, itchy blankets underneath, an overturned spittoon, pairs of overalls strewn. Bud says to Pete: Your hair, (sniff) it smells so sweet, it does not smell at all like feet. Pete says to Bud: Your caboose is looking good next to that stack of sandalwood; let's start…
Waiting for the Lions to Stop Texting Their Ex-Girlfriends
Me gaping at the faux habitat of rain-watered rolling grassland aglow with boring tenderness—the leisurely saunter of quivering manes, sweetly interlocked paws, flirtatious nuzzles against shimmering fur licked-smooth, while that one remains reclusive, the one hidden in the shade of the out-of-place oak tree, head downcast and paws clasped, turned…
Peter Rabbit Redux
Yeah, it's no lie: The little guy's doin' time now For that botched garden job, Sportin' stripes nowadays Instead of buttons And got great big tattoos On both ears. And his sibs? Well, They couldn't buy a break: Poor Miss Flopsy Had to get a biopsy, Lost all her fur…
I Like Your Profile
(sent from my Blackberry) Hi Karen5603, You beautifully typed and now I am learning you are a fun person who likes new adventures and you crave mint chocolate chip ice cream. But did you know mint chocolate chip ice cream is the 10th most popular ice cream consumed in the…
Julia Warhola Speaks
I am the mother of Andy Warhol. Right from beginning, Andy was special. When his brothers go to school, he stay home with me. I like to draw pictures…and so did he. We even draw picture of each other. I like to draw cat a lot and so did he.…
Barbas de Oro
(The Zephyr/Holy Spirit) “On hottest days,” My father said, “You have a friend, Named Barbas de Oro. If you call his name With respect and faith, He will come, and bless you with His grace.” The migrant fields exude their heat Mocking my poverty Challenging the myth At the age…
I Want to Live in an Edward Hopper Painting
Ed, I've loved your work for decades And so much do I admire you That someday a painting of yours will Be the place I hope to retire to. Gas stations, drugstores & offices A cheap chop suey joint. Automats, diners, hotels & motels I'll gladly help you anoint. I've…
The Rough Wooing
I Death of a King Scotland, December 7, 1542 Kneeling on stones in the chapel at Linlithgow, Marie de Guise heard the creak of an opening door, and, chilled by a sudden wind, a bitter gust, ceased praying—even as the flicker of flambeaux intensified, casting shadows on the floor, snakes…
Suite in Mudtime
—for Stephen Arkin i. Winterkill Deerhair, rough ring on rock. Winterkill. Not unlike the hair on my own skull, as my wag of a daughter might say. She's lovely, eleven. Nothing else—not even hide nor cloven hoof nor so much as the least small bone. Coyote economy: everything gone in…
Obituary for a Bay Tree
My stately friend is dead—no more that rare, flowering, age-old tree, its leaves no longer sway in the summer breeze, no birds nest in its branches, no bird sings, no squirrel shows its naughty face, no delicate white flowers, float down like fairy clouds, to feed the gentle deer browsing…
Raising My Arm
Okay, Stroke, so you snuck up on me and in a half-second, you assaulted my body and deranged my life. Yes, you murdered a piece of my brain… but not of my soul! Yes, you stole my freedom from my left arm, my left hand, my left leg, my left…
A Trilogy of Love and Loss
1. The Time Passed By Now that our summer's run its course and winter's pressing hard, will you still stay? Is there remorse for what we've done: defied the favors of the world, marred sacred vows once taken, received no easy tokens of fevered friendships broken? Say, now that all…
the death of memory
that must be the final indignity the thought that comes and goes explodes vanishes like some mythical gossamer thing that drifts in your mind the vision that completely disappears as if some invisible sprite had swiped it from some troublesome cobweb in your brain and hustled it away that image…
For My Ancestors
Who from opulent lips sang their slave songs from the bottom of hell, their dirges and their ditties their blues, their jubilees, prayed their prayers nightly, daily— humbly bending their knees to an unseen power to release the shackles of their oppression, lift the darkness of their despair. Strong as…
The Whittler
On the porch of a tin-roof shanty the whittler whittles with patient tenderness. His hands, dark as sorghum molasses are nicked and marred from cotton's wicked thorns. He chips and gouges, reveals the cedar's salmon-hued grain. Fragrant bark tumbles in Aida Mae's bed of hollyhocks. He whittles below the sun's…
To Steal, Or Not to Steal
(With apologies to Shakespeare's “Hamlet”) To steal, or not to steal: that is the question: Whether 'tis safer in the end to ignore The pickoff move of a left-handed pitcher Or to test a catcher's arm on a pitchout And by testing beat them? To slide: to steal; Once more;…
A Mother’s Musings
When you were but a thought, my child, I had dreams about you. I dreamt about the day you would cross the road holding my hand, Mother and son, a pretty picture. I thought of your first day at school, How heartbroken I would be when you left the house,…
Long Long Ago
Long long ago and far away I was an ambitious youth with plans everything seemed so far in the future there was no hurry— all of a sudden I am an old man looking back over the battles I have fought to only achieve some of my goals which kept…
Selling the Ranch
It's just a name scrawled on paper— wild cursive, as when he practiced in junior high to sign his name with distinction, some flair defying the uniform ovals of the Palmer method— his signature on the line their lawyer marked with a red X. With the first capital of his…
Another Crossing
This may have been the first time in years when I have been at the Carousel restaurant without my late wife, Vera, sitting in the chair next to me —the two of us chatting like magpies, holding hands or maybe teasingly rubbing knees under the table. I miss that tonight.…
Child’s Play
Poetry, it seems to me, Is easy, just like ABC. I started writing, so I'm told, When I was only one year old. By two, I had been published twice, And soon twice more, to be precise. They say I was real disciplined. A poet, nay, a wunderkind! Age three…
Not A Poem
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