by TNSF | Jun 17, 2020 | Poems, Vol. 3, Issue 15
Dark and bare, exposed by winter’s probing and immodest gusts you stand with arms raised heavenward. Unflustered and unblushing, sharing none of Eve’s false modesty, you pose in nature’s state unclothed for all to see. And on your folded skin is mapped the journey of...
by TNSF | Jun 3, 2020 | Poems, Vol. 3, Issue 14
Editors Note: It’s recommended that you read this piece on a computer instead of a mobile device due to unique spacing that does not show properly on mobile. drive ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||a...
by TNSF | May 6, 2020 | Poems, Vol. 3, Issue 12
you unknown root my wild card I had you, old woman with still-dark hair squatting by the wood stove hardly glancing at the tiny girl, the post-war baby. my daddy told me we were Blackfoot from you. so in cowboy games I wore backyard feathers. later in his dream west...
by TNSF | Apr 8, 2020 | Poems, Vol. 3, Issue 10
I thought cold rot would be better than warm rot, so I turned the breaker back on after the renters left a family’s worth of food in the fridge, but the heat got to it before I did, liquefied the butter and ice cream, pressurized the soda cans so that I had to...
by TNSF | Mar 11, 2020 | Poems, Vol. 3, Issue 8
One glove is all he can handle. Two screws set in his arm through the plate and bone. It was dark when it happened, that day in the mill house. The saw shrieked and sheared the blade, stopping with a fleshy thump between the radius and ulna, like the chop of a cleaver...
