At last, we have the finalists for the Heaven Eleven Annual Ekphrastic Marathon in July. And the results are a wild surprise: the winner of both the poetry and the flash categories this year is the...

“What about my African violets, my jade plants, my burro’s tails? Are they all dead too?” she asked when she saw me. The look on my face gave her the answers. “Shame! They would’ve thrived here,” she ...

Before you look at my hands or reach out to shake them, I should warn you: every one of my exes loved my hands, and every one of them left me because of them. Not because they were hardened by heavy l...

“What about my African violets, my jade plants, my burro’s tails? Are they all dead too?” she asked when she saw me. The look on my face gave her the answers. “Shame! They would’ve thrived here,” she ...

By Christine H. Chen — It all began with the empty bucket in a corner of the living room that collected the occasional water dripping from the ceiling when Ah Ma was showering on a chair in the bathtub upstairs even though I had suggested that she simply took a bath

“Anything” by Tracy Royce is a masterpiece of mood. The speaker of the prose poem begins “gloomy again” but ends, via a city bike ride, in an entirely new and revelatory headspace. Royce integrates…

​*   Managing Editor: Edward Ahern    * *   Associate Editor: Alison McBain    * *    Special Features Editor: Matthew P.S. Salinas    * *    Poetry Editor: Mary Keating   * ​ ​...