Poetry: “algae” by Joseph Felkers

August mud clings to our ankles like the skies just opened for a second. Didn’t plan on raining but a little slipped out so we can stop getting cuts on dry weeds and smelling cinnamon starch air dried like fourth grade.   We are so tired of being in this month. It feels like bike …

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Poetry: “The Party” by Thom Young

the party started with guns in their mouths and a nice baby’s breath arrangement that seemed to play off her dress the vows said heard by those with knives in their eyes and a one way ticket when the part came to kiss the bride the Mothership arrived with a light they’d never known or …