I hear Ezra Pound croaked
without making a sound.
No last rasp as his crooked
legs crashed. I hear your aunt
passed. I apologize. “I am nothing
but bereft for her.” This is a chant
& I realize 89% of Americans die
in a hospital. Or so I hear. Or
so it goes. & my
lost friend gasps in a waiting
room. I guess I’d. »
Poetry by Laurel N.
Do not buy the lettuce
those frothy topped leaves
are festering with bugs.
Soft-bodied caterpillars follow
their jaws dragging their bulging
green weight. Imagine. »
Nonfiction by Christopher Lowe
All I remember clearly is Super Mario Brothers. Looking back now, I can’t recall who from our family came into town aside from my cousins, Toot and Tonner, who helped us set up the brand new Nintendo. I remember sitting on the hardwood floor – slid as far back from the TV as possible to save our eyes – while relatives and neighbors and friends of the family weaved through the controller cords, talking about my father in hushed. »