Author: Heavy Feather

Side A Poetry: “Haint Walk” by Andreas Savvides

Haint Walk I was murdered by a mob when I was just 14.Now I do the Haint Walk. Nobody told me what I had did, even when I asked!They told me animals don’t get an explanationas the sea of cloaked arms and hoods pushed me towards the tree.It’s still hard to shake that sensation of…
Three Fictions for Flavor Town USA: Elissa Matthews

Roast Duck with Plum Sauce At two in the morning my mother phones, waking me. Insomnia, fear, and the need to talk have overwhelmed her once again. There’s pain between us—some open wounds, some badly healed ones, some jagged scars—but we both know we have only a few months left. “I’m hungry,” she says. “Make…
Bad Survivalist Poetry: “All My Ducks” by Charlie Brice

I sit across from the sweet Black womanat my doctor’s office. She’s checking me outafter a visit where I, once again, dodged the bulletsof mortality, bobbed and weaved to avoid morbidity’s blows. I love looking at the tchotchkes on her desk, especiallythe little plastic ducks along the front of her computer.I always say, Looks like…
Rodrigo Toscano: Two Poems from the Future

Itinerant Tendon Already tight, the tendon got tighterLosing even more strength, already weak.A sudden demand on its core functionCircular rotation at ten degreesGive or take, exceeded its base limit.A micro tear thus began its journeyWidening its path steadily to the bone.Upon arrival, the tendon snapped off(A simile on the way that went downWas not found,…
New Haunted Passages Short Fiction: “Sleepwalking Too Close to the Fire” by Danila Botha

I stood on the ship’s balcony, my head hanging over the railing, thick clusters of orange vomit merging with the darkening sea like Postmodern art. Agreeing to this was like stepping into a floating dream that mixed toxic positivity with aggressive self improvement through gurus and pickleball, astrology, and Pilates. I could hear the judgement…
New Side A Poetry: “to begin and end in the garden, slapping mosquitoes, reading her book” by Barbara Tomash

to begin and end in the garden, slapping mosquitoes, reading her book White lily, red lily, azalea, camellia, wisteria, salvia, grape arbor, rose. She checks anxiously on each plant, notes who is dead or barely surviving, who is furiously blossoming and shooting up green for reasons she can’t fathom— what if garden is a bed…
James Pate: Three Poems for Haunted Passages

Messiah of Evil (1973) We sit in the sun and wait. We sleep. And we dream. Each of us dying slowly in the prison of our minds. —Arletty, Messiah of Evil I’ve often thought of the human head as a meat radio. And cat heads too. And those of small, quivering birds flying too close…
Poetry for Side A: “Sophie” by Sherice Kong

Sophie We sit and wait fora picture that is taking its time to load. Our whole summershed like blood. The air was silked with cicadas and all the almost adults weretrembling in the hands to become someone important. I thought of how I could take my new licenseand drive straight across my life’s small, shiny…
Writing from the Future: “The Lemon Game” by Brittany Redd

You are a regular person just trying to survive in a world where life only ever gives you lemons. Sometimes, you get a lot of lemons; sometimes only a few. It is up to you to decide what you do with them. You can make lemonade. You can make something else if you want. Whatever you try to…