By Max Tachis  “It’s just about midnight on this cloudy Friday night, folks, so I’ll be signing off after this next track and passing the wheels of steel to my friend and yours, DJ Kenny T, for your Midnight Mix… but I leave you, as always, with one last classic. Be well, my loyal night owls, and I’ll catch you on the other side of the weekend.” * * * It takes you about five seconds to recognize the song but, considering how well you know it, you’d have been able to do

Her mind is like a battlefield, Full of fear and full of lies. Living in a cycle she cannot escape. She shuts her door, hiding from the world. Longing to be seen. Longing to be heard. She quietly waits at the corner of her bed, For someone brave enough to open the door. Loneliness creeps in. Doubt creeps in. She starts losing hope. “Is this the end for me?” Just when she is about to let go, Someone knocks at her door. Heart beating faster. Hands start trembling. With desperat

The afterlife has left me  stranded in my sister's house, at the edge  of catastrophe She’s  having cocktails amid a few ravages of grief here and there while she lays out littered pieces  of a breakable life. No self-pity for her. She’s too busy  watching the stars  run away  with the moon. I didn't know enough to be scared. But she did. By Barbara Shields

Snow covers property that lives outside as mold covers our food with soft, white hair and ice preserves our dead-town, traffic-wide as fungus that feeds on fields of highway air. Giant sheets of snow heaped over hills & parking lots as if each colossal animal our children made out of clouds molted its skin or were ripped through the ground, either way—our families freeze where something massive rots. By Joshua Wren

What brave life to see! these few, bunches of brown leaves dead & still clinging to the oak tree, covered in ice & snow standing apart from the rows of others whose every branch is stark bare as if this mistaken one patiently holds this truth to share— (that only we of similar roots will know) Oh—how in the blind face of Time and mindless seasons where so many follow so many reasons to “let go”— we (in this strange company) want to show how best to be in quiet conflict with s

Where the TV should be, Liam has a fishtank. I like fishtanks, he said. He was six years old. He’s liked fishtanks ever since. He’s thirty-five now. He sits in his easy chair, face less than a foot away from the glass, and stares. There’s nothing out there that moves like fish. Fish look like aliens from outer space, exploring earth for the first time. No matter how many laps they take, they see things for the first time. It’s beautiful. Liam has a job, unfortunately. His job

By Catherine Paulson

Short Small Tiny Little Petite Size is relative Strong Powerful Impactful Physical Tough With an indestructible base You tell me my size I tell you “congratulations, you have eyes” What’s the point of sharing that fact? When I have a bigger heart Measured as 5 feet short But feel 8 feet tall I forget my size Because I don’t see a difference But you do You just want to find a flaw Tell me when you find a real one Cause this is my superpower This might be your weakness But this

Can’t complain When I constantly train Many people wish they were in my shoes And to be all over the news They don’t know I’m struggling From doing all this juggling Doing what I love is hard But I can’t let down my guard I question if it’s worth it And if I’m a perfect fit I just have to have fun Before it’s all done Be grateful for where I am Especially in this program I’m not where I want to be I need to find the missing key Now it’s time to sweat Because I’m not finished