Actualization
The need for desacralizing unfolds. Our gods
never cease to fail us, some even after death.
Actualization; Neologism; Container; Sehnsucht; Afflatus
The Walrus
Yolanda walked unsteadily down Madison Avenue, watching her red, kid-leather boots with golden buckles plow through thick snow. Ken called them her fancy-pants boots. Her feet were soaked through and so cold she could hardly feel them. There was something she was trying to remember. What was it? A smell of some kind. She might have walked this way earlier. The snow had been whiter the first time, she was pretty sure, though not totally sure. Now it was mostly smashed down and dirty and wet. A cab shot in front of her—toast! That was it: the smell of burnt toast. Getting a fix on that forgotten smell was one tiny thing she could hold in place on this out-of-place Christmas Eve Day.
The Recovery of Marcus Ray
Marcus Ray is convinced that it’s a man’s obligation to take full control, and that’s paid off for him: married to the same woman for forty-two years, employed by SunCertain his entire adult life, mortgage paid, money in the till. He retired four years ago at age sixty-six, studied the market and invested well, put his son through Boston College and Fordham Law, supplied the funds his daughter needed to open her own gallery in Tucson.
42,000 Matches
Hate crimes are on the rise, especially against Latinos
You grab new leggings, skirts & more
A Song for Today
[author] [author_image timthumb=’on’][/author_image] [author_info]Stanley Kaplan has published poetry and flash in a number of journals including Onthebus, Convergence, Chiron and JuxtaProse. He paints as well a writes. He is the Recipient of a Pollock-Krasner Foundation grant.[/author_info] [/author]
Petra Searching: Little Bastard
Winter 2000
Maria leaned over our first-grade lunch table, her brown bob swinging. She wanted my last Cheeto, which I considered my end-meal treat. It had extra-large bumps, on which clung an ample dusting of cheese powder. It glowed fluorescent orange in the plastic baggie, taunting me. I practiced discipline, spooning applesauce until it was gone, before I would let myself eat it. My mom set rigorous rules for meals, one being that we needed to finish each meal’s designated fruits or vegetables before we ate a treat.