I will never forget // how quickly your scooter sped down the hill
By Matt Gulley
a quick search, a type and tap // or a phone-sought friend, at longest last
By Cecil Morris
The embryo that bloomed ectopic in the wife // who left me would be 45 this year and lives // in the cryogenic regions of my brain
The antique store hides // a portal to the underworld // behind a wall of maps // of places that don’t exist.
By Chris Corlew
willow-white duck // the blistered // spigot squirts not only for you // but for my irradiated necktie
Indoors, faith's crumb turned my without force // as a red need - the language, the // locate plan.
By Ellen Orr
As cast in copper, pelican reflects. // Pale plumage tarred brown. Preening // for naught: water seeps in, chills.