Skip to content


3 Poems by Ian Stratton

Considering the Bog Man Like that pickled fellowI will keepsomething sourpuckered tightand curledA smileA senseof patience Dayevaporateslike vinegarThe hangman loseshis gripThe ropeslackens in time In timeI will preserveif nothingelse the grossblackened bulb of mein a… Read More »3 Poems by Ian Stratton

Prose by Alison Selden

Panting black crows. Speechless open beaks, tired and silently frantic with thirst, and as a result not disturbed at all by my presence. The grass offers nothing, not the ants either, their dried up bodies,… Read More »Prose by Alison Selden