Author: Heavy Feather

Poetry: “Press Conference” by Gabriel Welsch

Lies are a special Esperanto.A language spoken with a set of the eyes,in a suit a few sizes too big, to makeroom for spasms of the heart’sremaining muscle, the tornslips of paper and innuendoadding up to a surrogate soul,the meaning holds its feet notin syllables but the telemetryamong the vicious. A podiumhas to prop the…
Fiction: “The Outlaw Truth” by Ron Gibson, Jr.

Leticia sits at her kitchen table, drinking coffee, curtains parted, watching the dirty dawn brightening between the bare limbs of the Rodneys’ elm next door. Light falls as harpoons and elevator shafts, laying out on her front lawn like butchered meat in a bazaar. A flock of ducks give in, charge toward ghosts over the…
“Exemplary, Emerging Visionary: Meri Sheen of Bohemian Dreams” (Fiction by Alexandria Morales)

Introduce yourself. Who are you, where are you from, and what are you doing now? People know me as Meri Sheen. I am a product of Hollywood, California. I’ve produced the fashion blog Bohemian Dreams since I was eleven years old, for eleven years now. My blog details my journey through Crossroads School, Grand Arts…
Poetry: Genève/Geneva Chao’s “Things I’ve Vomited Since Nov. 9, 2016 (a partial list)”

Things that I’ve vomited since Nov. 9, 2016include my breakfast on Nov. 10, 2016, whichwas the first day I attempted to eat breakfast,blobs of egg and beans that did not decideto become part of my cells; include threechocolate chip cookies that I baked beforeI realized my gorge was still rising, and whichcame out like play-dough,…
Two Poems by Katie Armstrong

Donald John Trump I expected this Samsonbombast. His boast aballoon, a hot warren riddle,and a big bag of duck down—and that’s not to mention how he’llpillow in the rubble. But who was it saidout of the strong, somethingsweet? I do know you said it was for me,notwithstanding endangered bees. Imagine, for a moment,the taste of…
Three Poems by Dan Chelotti

Depth of Field There are four triangular slotsto hold the pictures downand some have been there so longthey’re stuck. They could take usanywhere. Back, back beforethe sand in the hourglasswas replaced with ash:a playpen in the middle of a field.The fly in the room buzzes.It won’t come back. The standof birches on the edge of…
Poetry: Matthew Harrison’s “Learning Circles”

I learned to dance by dropping soap in the showerand catching it. You should see me cut a lineon the raised floor that flashes beside the roller rink.A head spin: that’s something I don’t do, but I do noodle.Windmill. Worm. The Manic Alligator. I learned to roller skateby sliding in acrylic socks across the polished…
Big Lonesome, short stories by Joseph Scapellato, reviewed by Nick Sweeney

Joseph Scapellato’s collection is a lot of things: risky, honest, and romantic. Big Lonesome will turn your idea of the Western genre on its head, creating new thoughts, before turning again, and again. Cowboys and Indians and horses and the dust of the Old West and the New. And the weird. Especially the weird. I…
Two Poems by Carolyn Zaikowski

Summons Where do they go after the stormWhere do they go after the tideWhere do they go after they’re lostWhere do they go after the sprawl Where do they go when there’s no bridgeWhere do they go when there’s no brideWhere do they go when there’s no stationWhere do they go when there’s a mountain…