by Brandon Engel | Poetry | What broken vessel here once lay, Shattered pieces in disarray Without form, mere jagged edge— Futile in most every way?

by Jon Escher | Poetry | I wandered through a Salvation Army store and came to the rack of winter coats and jackets paused to consider that strangers lived and may have died in these.

by Yannick Imbert | Poetry | “Where’s my New Year's stockings,” you said. I turn around and see your eyes, Bright, expectant. I scratched my head: “Is it Christmas?” … To my surprise

by Brendon Sylvester | Poetry | Beneath the hull-like vaults that shrine dear Bede while he prays his history, and Cuthbert, filled with Phineas’ fire, just where Oswald’s head can see, a massive light-up globe disturbs the dark, revolves like a plastic boat caught in the swirl of a draining bath.

By Ron Hickerson | Poetry | Lately, I have been haunted by success— Ideas and expectations of what it Looks like and where it comes from. Is success Some white stag waiting for me to chase it? But That chase is circular and only leads

By Ron Hickerson | Poetry | Emotion is hard to distinguish from sin when you were raised Between the pews of a church just fundamentalist enough To make you second-guess every feeling in your body. One

By Caleb Hill | Poetry | Your Spirit like skin holds in place an architecture of bones, authorities, edicts from before time began, knits them in cross-purposes and joints of clenchingcommon tears. The wedding feast, the taste of peace

By Caleb Hill | Poetry | In the likeness of His death, keep unlamenting silence, weep alone without the comfort of common tears. The wedding feast, the taste of peace

by Cody Adams | Poetry | Wintry centuries smother us with gray, but the bare trees swear, “Nothing gray can stay.” Frostbit hands stack bricks o’er the dead and quick--mausoleums cave under sins stacked thick.