Literary as hell.
A new essay by Sean Richard Higgins which explores the weird, but related, experiences of air travel, alcohol dependence, and Western Pulp novels.
Sean Richard Higgins writes fiction, non-fiction, and music. He lives in Michigan. Visit him at http://www.seanrichardhiggins.com/.
Three pieces by W. Jack Savage. “We Won!”, “Time in the Garden,” and “That Spot Off The Beach.”
W. Jack Savage is a retired broadcaster, educator and actor. He is the author of six books: three novels, two short story collections and the autobiographical The High Sky of Winter’s Shadows (wjacksavage.com) In addition to his writing, nearly eighty of Jack’s drawings and paintings have been published world-wide. Jack and his wife Kathy live in Monrovia, California.
Aaron M.P. Jackson is the former Poet Laureate of Jersey City, NJ, he has twice been a recipient of grants from the Puffin Foundation. His writing often reflects his dual heritage, with a focus on themes of love, urban existence and all things dog. For more information please visit middlepoet.com.
Check out a new essay titled “Bee, Telephone, Flower” by Rebecca Lawhorne, below.
Rebecca Lawhorne was born on a Christian commune in rural Alaska, but was migrated to an island in Florida. After years of feeling like she was missing out on an essential part of the human experience, brutal weather and wild animals, she moved herself back north. She now shares her life with two farm-raised women and their dogs, practices subsistent living and attends the Univeristy of Alaska, Fairbanks, studying under poets Derick Burleson and Sean Hill. You can pick her brain at moonpixie.tumblr.com and tune into her radio show “Hipstery” on KSUAradio.
Two new pieces by Howie Good. “Come Evening” and “Press Enter to Continue.”
Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of the forthcoming poetry collection The Middle of Nowhere (Olivia Eden Publishing). His latest chapbooks are Echo’s Bones and Danger Falling Debris (Red Bird Chapbooks). He co-edits White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely.
Noon, November 24th by Jacob Shelton
“Wait, punch out, c’mon, punch out!”
I hear the referee’s words faintly as I try to sneak in an uppercut that’s probably illegal but what the ref don’t see, don’t happen. “The Shark” finally shoves me off and as I jump back, I feel the blood running down my cheek again. I thought it had stopped bleeding, damn. The cut is deeper than I figured it was. It had come from a wicked right-cross in the fourth round that glanced over my left eyebrow and opened up some old scar tissue. Coach told me to keep my hand up, but I guess I just got a little cocky. We all get a little cocky sometimes. Somehow we always end up paying for it, too. Ever since then it’s been an uphill battle. I know I won Rounds 1 and 2, but I’m in this asshole’s backyard. Chances are the rounds are closer than I believe them to be.
“Oh! Time! Go to your corners.” Continue reading
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