Raking under the maple, I unsettle two small moths the color of light brown sugar and sweet to my sentimental eyes. One rises, undamaged, di...

Our mail carrier’s on medical leave: not a dog bite; not a fall. “Worse,” a co-worker confides. “Political news got to him.” In the local p...

first the fire truck density itself blazing through a canyon then the ambulance the retirement home parking lot bathed in candy cane light a...

we'd cut the top off a pop can one of us would steal a little gasoline from our father out on the west edge of the trailer park tucked...

winter trees blossoming with birdsong Stephen Toft is a poet and homelessness worker who lives in Lancaster, UK with his wife and their ch...

train at dusk the smell of the country on a stranger's coat Stephen Toft is a poet and homelessness worker who lives in Lancaster, UK ...

deep in snow breathing warmth into my scarf Stephen Toft is a poet and homelessness worker who lives in Lancaster, UK with his wife and th...

I didn’t know coffins came in children’s sizes. Matthew Borczon is a poet and reserve navy sailor from Erie, PA. He has published six books ...

The soldier said he didn’t know what hurt worse, stepping on the IED or telling his wife about it the first time he called home. Matthew Bor...

On the day I left for Afghanistan I felt like a kid in my father's clothes. Matthew Borczon is a poet and reserve navy sailor from Erie,...

Depression, the great multiplier; one hour becoming two, one day becoming three, a night lasting forever, the only end that makes calming se...

Your shadow watches every mirror you pass, hoping—one day— to have a reflection it can name. Each mirror looks back at your vanishing shadow...

The Gashes The world Cuts Into Poets Are only More Exits For poems To seep Out Of. Mike Meraz lives and writes in Whittier, CA. His latest ...

Uniformed Artists Going to Work At 8am In the Morning Probably Hung over From Painting Writing Partying Waiting For that Time clock To hit ...

Only yesterday I'd been struck by the beauty of autumn trees on the hillside – now, as cloud and drizzle veil the landscape, sodden is t...

Life has lost its luster. The trees have shed their multi-colored leaves, now languishing in shades of gray. Looking back begets a painful r...

End of the first days off this year. Two days, one recovery, it’s July. One thing I know, there is a report waiting for me, still, from last...

Used to have flowing golden locks, if you can believe that. Used to have a six pack. Now he drinks one a day. Used to evoke high pitched squ...

Upstream from the wing dam all is calm, all is placid. Ducks and geese abound, perched on the rocks that dot the shallows, bobbing for fish ...

May redwood roots tickle my bones. May my blood rise as tinted sap. May my arms lift as limbs to sunlight,           may I embrace the rain....