Category: WrittenWordWednesday

Confusion

abstract of shadow on snowdrift

by Carolyn Agee Watching your lips, I comprehend silence. ©2018 Carolyn Agee Carolyn Agee is an actress & author in the PNW with forthcoming books: Drowning Ophelia (Red Bird Chapbooks) and The Ambiguous Tides of Saudade (Wolfsinger Pub.).

what cotton candy tasted like in 2004

clouds at fiery sunset

by William Bortz before summer left that year it gave me a wet kiss and my hair is still matted like dew-soaked grass and July is just another day at the carnival dusk is patient and slow to fade sitting idly just below the…

It was close

stylized photo of barn window

by F.J. Bergmann If I’d gotten hay for the horses from another farm If I’d been able to pay cash instead of working in the field If you hadn’t lost your balance and sat down just before the truck went under the bridge If…

Flipper

stylized photo of frost on glass

by Austin Davis It’s almost too much— the way she holds my hand on raw December mornings even when her nails camouflage with the frost kissed grass. The sleeves slip from the dark blue sweater she wears of mine and her hands lose their…

Bird House Blind

top of fallen birch tree on the snow

by M.R. Baird I dwell in a house that is not mine; milk snow, lake effect, eagle overhead flies on with outstretched wings, open eyed, above the blinds, my hands grasping, the cold, trees fall, weather comes in again. This house is full of…

The Great Shearwater

stylized photo of waves on rocky shore

by Kelly R. Samuels Great as in large, larger than the greedy sparrow, flick of seed, and the mourning dove. Larger than the chickadee, white-capped, chipper. We’re speaking of birds, you and I — a kind of communion. Something that binds. How you learned…

Everglades at Dusk

poem by John Grey Heron steps nimbly across a floating mangrove island of dangling roots and minnow cloisters, more blue in its wings than in the darkening sky. Swamp smells like a deer carcass in broth, seethes with heat and insects and a fading…

Learning from Snails

short story by Ute Carson My father was killed in World War II shortly before my birth. My mother remarried when I was four. An aunt stayed with me while the newlyweds went on their honeymoon. As soon as their coach departed I ran…