featured stories

Chain of Fools

It’s a sun-drenched cut-grass balmy-air day and I’m speeding down the street in a borrowed jalopy as Aretha wails One of these mornings...

​

Read full prose poem...

Undersides

​

Ted woke from sleep with a start. His father had tasked him with guarding their morning catch while he went out for one more quick run, “just to see if I can nab that slippery son-of-a-gun”—a big striped bass that managed to wriggle off Pa’s hook somehow...

​

Read full story... 

​

published stories & poems
by kathryn silver-hajo