Carried Away You have a fight with your wife. It’s the worst of a string of previous fights that have been going on for several weeks. You slam the front door and get into the cab of your 1973 Ford pickup, then squeal the tires as you race out of the driveway. You don’t really … Read more →

The Old Man and the Ponytail Palm Fall’s final days. Along the street, there were rundown cars wearing discarded leaves, parked bumper to bumper, and there were walkups, leaning against one another in their drooping skins—crumbling brick, sagging window frames, peeling paint—all looking bone-weary in the gray day. On the sidewalk, a boy watched his … Read more →

The Shore of Erie I would have preferred to wait and fly in for the funeral, but Sarah convinced me to see him while he was still breathing. She made a compelling argument: “I’m not paying the therapy if you don’t see him.” I shrugged, as I do when she’s so correct that I’ve got … Read more →

coyote calls we got a little liquored at the old opera house and went parking on the west pond damn windows down, radio blaring as bold as back when, and laughed at coyotes calling to classic rock Wanda Morrow Clevenger has placed 140 pieces of work in 55 online and print publications. Her debut book … Read more →

Gathering Myself I am trying to gather myself. My self has other ideas. I track it down in a diner somewhere in Nebraska, sipping trucker coffee, unmarried and unemployed, blissfully watching strangers gathering themselves, whether they know it or not. Moments before, I found my self on a bench outside the Safeway in Seward, Alaska, … Read more →

body swarming over the pigs he spots the cracked window flies inside, zooming around pie maybe ice cream maybe discarded fruit she opens her mouth swallows the fly inside the mouth is wet, moist he’s not sure what happened he flies, the water drenching him she swallows convulsively the mouth opens air-freedom he makes a … Read more →

Winter Myths Will you object if I called you now? Not through phone lines, pumping blood to hearts that have stopped beating. Not with a voice that had learned the language of trees (ivy and oak, my dear) I mean call you through this rip in my room. Through the hole in my bed I … Read more →

Bloc Party The softest wall sleeps next to me on weekends, freckles tagged all over her shoulders like mall fountain pennies. Every time we see each other, she shakes away more bricks; the guards start forgetting their AK-47s. There’s less to climb, more cracks to hold hands through. I still keep away YouTube clips of … Read more →

Renée Beaucheane is an all-around artist, her background is in fine art; drawing, painting and 3-dimensional fine-art.  As time progressed, she developed an interest in design and Graphics, Interiors and Web Design became a big part of her life.  As a related hobby she began to take an interest in Photography.  She prides herself in … Read more →

Last Light at Stronghold Canyon Gaunt mesquite threw a pretence of shadow, doing what it could to cool my trespass. I crossed the creek bed stained brown by tannins from the mountain snowmelt, watched the pupfish and minnows swim a tide pool’s gathered depth. When I knelt to cup water to my lips I saw … Read more →