April 9, 2020

“Review for a Canvas Fanny Pack,” by Kerry Langan

Heading for Review: Big Mistake Reviewer Name: SheWhoIsDisappointedandIsGoingtoTellYouHowMuch I gave this fanny pack one star because there was no option to give it no stars. If you try to leave the 5-star graphic blank, it won’t let you go to the box where you’re supposed to leave the actual review. So, just know that I gave this one star but it should be no stars. Zilch. First of all, I ordered an apple green fanny pack from HikeBike.com when they were running that sale a couple weeks ago. Apple green, like the color of grass in July and my favorite sweater and, well, green apples! In the photo they ran during the sale, the fanny pack looks like it would match a Granny Smith. I love apple green. If you opened my closet door, you’d see that almost everything is green. Kevin, my ex, told me once that green was a great color with my brown…

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April 6, 2020

“‘The Misfits’ Revisited,” Poetry by Stephen Mead

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

“The Misfits” Revisited* When you chased, lassoed the mustangs, tying hooves to necks of down weighed by tires heavy as trucks, you wrenched the galloping out of me till I found my rage… Butchers! What is the spirit if not these horses wild first to last, these zeniths, comet- tailed, free as the sage, the mountains, the thousand miles of it? That is me down there in the dust. That is you who cannot see yourself for the sign of dog food dollars, a cowboy’s wage, the dream gone to blood. Put my blood on your fingers. Lick clean. Let whiskey drown the taste. The taste will come back, the beleaguering fever and freedom here truly trotting beyond your ropes which shake and shake. Lost boy, lost cow poke, I will…

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March 29, 2020

“Crimson,” A Short Story by Zach Lattman

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

Ester hated that dress. But it was the only thing she had for tonight. Since graduating law school, she, and four other classmates would get together once a month. Supposedly, they were all such great friends, and they didn’t want graduation to pull them apart. But to Ester, it felt fake—almost coerced. It felt more like preemptive networking; everyone was keeping tabs on each other in case they needed a favor down the road. Ester never voiced that concern to anyone. Surely, it was all in her head, she told herself. But still, in her more cynical, or rather, her more honest moments, she doubted everyone’s authenticity—even her own. She leaned back against the living room wall and stared out the window into the late-spring evening. Chicago looked beautiful at night. From Ginny’s 21st-floor condo, it looked like…

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March 24, 2020

“Deep Fried,” A Short Story by Matt Kolbet

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

“Candy bars? “Of course. Snickers mainly. That’s what people have heard, so it rings true if they hear it again. Easy enough to envision something held in wires, dropped down in hot oil.” “Had it.” Dan eyed the man from Texas and felt a flash of home-grown pride. Travel had brought the two men together and Dan realized everything could be a competition: grilling techniques, the tang of a sauce, the cut of the meat. In other states they touted how high food could grow relative to elephants. Ridiculous, except when it wasn’t. Presently, they discussed state fairs and what could be fried at home. This prompted a lengthy litany and an appreciative silence. “You ever try Rolos?” “Haven’t. Gives me an idea though.” Dan pulled out his phone and punched in a string of numbers. “Hey Jed. No, I’m on a business trip. Met up with this other fellow. I want you to…

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March 19, 2020

“The Woman of Kutch,” Poetry by Jonathan Lloyd

Posted by Mike Rochester in Writing

The Woman of Kutch The woman of Kutch, Living in grasslands Favored by raj And ibis, flees  The earthquake and Monsoon that leveled The Gujarat Three or four  Thousand years ago. For this occasion She wears a dress Embroidered in red And yellow cotton An aba covers The sakral which Begins the stem  Of a sunflower rising  To a shower  Of light, all in Mirrors, surrounded  By grassy fields. She carries three Steel pots of water On her head and  With her left arm She caresses another. With her right arm  She shields her eyes  Against the sun, Into which she races. ** At  the Track She crosses her legs, this girl of twelve, her hat A crown, brim bouncing in a breeze. She reads Her book, maybe–maybe not–lost in thought Or reverie, a boy…

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“Review for a Canvas Fanny Pack,” by Kerry Langan

“‘The Misfits’ Revisited,” Poetry by Stephen Mead

“Crimson,” A Short Story by Zach Lattman

“Deep Fried,” A Short Story by Matt Kolbet

“The Woman of Kutch,” Poetry by Jonathan Lloyd

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