Issue 4.2

Blues from a Gun, chapter 8: Pink Moon

By Bryan Pedersen


Recitative: Unto which of the Angels Said He at any Time

By Anne Babson

For unto which of the angels said he at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee? And again, I will be to him a Father, and he shall be to me a Son?” – Hebrews 1:5


How do you

Know how to

Shape my nose (more…)

Tender, My Tinder

By Amanda Lee Baldi

My grandparents met over a match
in an indefinite Harmon Mute world
where her red hair was wrought iron
and his black brows remained staunchly
themselves. (more…)

Marching into the Sun

By Katie Berger

think I’ll join the Air Force,” my brother Mike said one day six months ago. “It’d be like a video game, but with really good graphics.” (more…)

Extra Baggage

By Mike Berger

As a shrink, I see every day

people chained to misery.

Their woes are shackled to them.

They habituate to the extra load,

but they are always tired. (more…)

Dirty Deed

By Mike Berger

Tears welled up in her eyes

splashing down her face splattering

where they fell. The knife in her

hand trembled. She took several

deep breaths to bolster her courage. (more…)

After a Hard Day in a Noisy Shop [To the hairdresser who admits to moonlighting]

By R.S. Carlson

Can you aim the light

to better see the work?

Is there help to turn or prop her head

when she needs shampoo, trim and curl? (more…)


By Chris Crittenden

maligned prophet

sensitive to swoops,

preferring a harp

and a symphony of silk, (more…)


By Emmanuel Jakpa

I run into the forest

and cut woods for you. (more…)

That Old Way of Clearing Land

By Clyde Kessler

A green heron finds a muddy creek

and it clacks through willows, its perch

is splotched into fog. My father names it

shytepoke, and says it jabs a sucker fish (more…)