Category: The Last Word
Writers getting the last word. HFR is invested in elevating art by marginalized groups with this feature.
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Elizabeth Johnston: “Trump Tweets @ Fairy Tales”
*Ed.’s Note: click images to view larger sizes. Elizabeth Johnston’s writing has appeared in The Atlantic, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Satirist, New Verse News, and Room Magazine, among many other magazines and collections. A teacher of writing, a feminist activist, and a co-founder of the 4-woman writing group Straw Mat Writers in Rochester, NY, she…
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“Samson,” a poem comic by Corey Oglesby
*Ed.’s Note: click images to view larger sizes. Corey Oglesby is a poet, musician, and illustrator from the Washington, D.C., area. His work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Hobart, Barrow Street, DIAGRAM, Beloit Poetry Journal, Queen Mob’s Teahouse, and elsewhere. Currently the Editor-in-Chief of the literary journal Fugue, he earned his MFA in…
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Four Poems by W. Todd Kaneko
Oh, Say Can You See I can’t see anything without my glasses, except the world’s blurred words,the moon’s glow through the window. Tonight, my son calls for his mother,and it’s me who soothes him back to sleep. Then it’s just me on the stairs outsidehis room, looking for a poem to write, something about injustice…
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Poetry: “VW Ramblings” by Kat Cameron
Found poem on a VW bus Check ego. Pay attention.I’m diagonally parked in a parallel universe. Where are we going? Jerome, Arizona.Grow your own dope. I need the money.No guts, no glory. Go for it. It’s the scenic route. Why am I in this handbasket?Don’t make me release the flying monkeys.Bring back the wolf. Plant…
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“Race Day,” an essay by Freda Epum
You board a bus and it seems as though there is a sea of Black people. If it weren’t for the fact that your skin is brown, your hair is curly, your eyes are black and almond, and you’ve got a nice ass (or so you’ve been told), you’d think there were no Black people in…
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Poetry: “Swallowed Whole” by Christopher Latin
even my god/ can be colonized even my body/ is a preexisting condition but what/ of love/ do we have to be ashamed —from a version of “Crimson Ring,” a poem for Sasha Wall screaming is the best way to not be silent mouthful seizure of want night’s long teeth sweetheart …
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“More Than This,” a poem by Tim Carrier
Yes, I liked it when we had abundance. Liked its love. Like we were sitting up on the roof rolling thin white cigarettes, with a pale tobacco, very light on the fine white paper. Ryan climbing up to the long flat roof with a bag of Fritos. Karen in her faux-hide boots, with shining gold…
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Poetry: Bryan D. Price’s “Station to station”
The ocean is wide but the road is onlyas long as an upturned truckswaddled in flames.To one another they refer tothemselves as pilgrims,though their devotion to the pastoral is conditional,like the words of a balladrevered more for the violence of the roomthan for the persistence of its intentions.These words are percussive.Voiced rhythmically.Not staccato like pistol…
Heavy Feather Review 