
You Know Nothing
By Thomas L. Winters
You know nothing
about the snowfall
the coming blackness, or
the silver rain bolts spying
A Literary Magazine Sponsored by The University of Maine at Farmington
By Thomas L. Winters
You know nothing
about the snowfall
the coming blackness, or
the silver rain bolts spying
By Griff Foxley
A lonely heart invited me over and was elated I’d seen the scroll in the bottle,
And had responded of all things, yes. Of all things, yes.
So I ventured. But frittered away on dirty stoops and dim, private alleys along the way,
Lost my way a time maybe two maybe two hundred. But here I stand at the scroll’s address.
By Jen Rouse
You trap the sun
in endless Ball jars,
line them up like
tiny souls on
the window sill.
By Mark Belair
I was maybe 20
in this taut dream, not
looking back to that age or
knowing I’d returned to it, but simply
by Michael Hammerle
That boy’s gonna’ be
a heart taker.
He’s got
our father’s eyes;
By Marc Swan
Three in the morning,
AC howling like a banshee dancing
on a wire. I shut it down
with a punch of the button.
By M. Stone
Dear stained glass Jesus:
they tucked me between pews
so I could imagine my heart
as a cardboard box, flaps open
to entice you.
By Barbara Alsop
The soft paw strokes my face
purr rumbling like a deep earthquake.