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Aubade

By Michael Dechane Poetry

This silence before
love pulls itself
apart, against
the current of its own
longing, is the most terrible
silence I know.

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Countershine

By Amy Leach Essay

Of course complicating considerations can occur with the immaterial, too, as you might be into time and gravity but not augury or angels—or you might be into some angels, like the six-winged amber ones, but not the messenger of death.

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Proof

By Bruce Bond Poetry

Why pray for the dead if not for this,
for God’s speed on their journey, home,
beneath the burden of the proof they bear.

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Parkland

By Bruce Bond Poetry

The shooter was a loner—they always are—
but to the bullied and confused, he just
might be the one who understands . . .

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