Tag Archives: distance

W PETER COLLINS: Dark Matter

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

In the bedroom lay silence, motionless, heavy as the sun, dark as a shadow on the moon.

Bent by space and time, her faint light flickered far away.

“Are you awake?”

Saying nothing, she told me everything, then rolled over and disappeared into the dark matter that was our marriage.

Peter is from Kentucky and now lives in California. For him there’s no difference between the world we see and the one that exists in our heads. His work has appeared in The Potato Soup Journal, Flash Fiction Magazine, The Sandy River Review, CommuterLit, and Flash Boulevard among others. See more at claritywithaview.com.

STEPHEN TILDEN: Apricity

Artistic, Submissions, ,

Above, an azure layer so thin you can see the blackness of space behind. My eyes slide west across layers of green and yellow to a fire beyond the horizon, so deeply red that I could take comfort in its apparent warmth if the evening air wasn’t so bitingly cold.

Apricity is a favorite word of Stephen’s, especially during this time of year, meaning ‘warmth of the sun in winter.’

YASH SEYEDBAGHERI: Remote

Stories, Top Stories, , , , ,

I hunch over computer screens.
My wife tries to get me outside.
I have to complete these editing jobs. We have heating, cell phone bills, electricity, and groceries to cover.
She tells me I’m remote.
I shut down the computer. Take her hand. We walk into the night, clouds parting.

Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His stories, “Soon,” “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” “Tales From A Communion Line,” and “Community Time,” have been nominated for Pushcart Prizes. Yash’s work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, and Ariel Chart, among others. He has been working on a short story collection centered around two siblings and their quest for the American Dream. Yash lives in Garden Valley, Idaho.

MICHAEL T SCHAPER: Travel Plans

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

Let’s take a break, you suggested, and told me to go see the world.

So I did. But every city, every day is empty without you.

I constantly message, phone, but never hear back.

I’ve studied so many maps but none of them shows me the way back to you.

Being on the road is common for this Australian writer. Fortunately, none of Michael’s own travel experiences are like those described here.

BILL COX: Harmony, Achieved

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

I admire my garden, which, like my life, I have brought into a state of concinnity, all parts fitting together with breathtaking elegance. Sometimes perfection requires an eye for construction; other times we must remove that which does not fit.

You were that offending piece. Removed. Now resting in peace.

Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland, vainly chasing his muse, who is always one step ahead.

TIM WEIGHART: First Scars

Artistic, Submissions, , , , , ,

The first cat he loved died when he was young.

Time weathered. Age hardened. Pain grew familiar.

But after the divorce, the scratch that cat had etched into his toddler-sized ring finger started stinging, and that wailing child reemerged, scarred by something he had assumed was exclusively soft and warm.

Tim Weighart grew up near Boston, but he lives in Colorado now. He enjoys words, and the trials that come with finding the right ones.

CATE COVERT: In My New Year, I Resolve to Let You Go

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

You texted: “I’m finished doing those pagan holidays—no gifts or cards, please. The kids are all on board.”

You memory-holed me; everyone forgot.

Then, I heard about your parties.

Did you fear my disability was contagious?

I’m weary of pointless waiting. I release you from all obligations.

Adieu,

Mama

Cate Covert hails from sunny Idaho, U.S.A. She has been telling stories since she could talk. She is a gardener and amateur herbalist, plays guitar and piano, and loves baking bread and making beaded jewelry. Most of all, Cate Covert loves to engage her reading and listening audiences. You can read her frequent inspirational writings, poetry, flash fiction, and humorous stories at Cate Covert on Chadashah.org or her Inspirational essays and bible studies at Pastora Cate’s Corner on Substack.

DAN JOHNSON: Listening for the Echo

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

From the peaks of red mountains I’ve seen lights across the desert.

Closing my eyes, I’d strain to hear the echo of ancient war drums.

My only reward was the sound of wind blowing across the valley floor.

Wind blowing the sand, making the lights far below twinkle like stars.

Dan Johnson was born in California and grew up in Illinois. Now retired, he spent over twenty years as a high school physics teacher and school administrator, who also loves writing poetry.

ANANIAH J: Pink Plastic Dinos

Poetry, Submissions, Touching, , ,

You brought me pink plastic dinos when I was six
I’d hide them between your couch
And we’d laugh when you found them

A decade later,
I still buy myself pink plastic dinos
That I hide when I’m home,
Waiting for you to find them
So we can laugh again.

Ananiah is an artist, writer, and bibliophile who draws inspiration from the raw fragments of existence. With her cat as her companion and the aroma of coffee filling the air, she believes that life itself is art and each day is an opportunity to create and acknowledge the unfiltered authenticity around us.

DAVE MYERS: Sandcastles

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

My eldest daughter deigns to lounge near her family.

My nine-year-old begs me to help build a sandcastle.

We mold and pack, smooth and trim, carve and adorn, laugh and pretend while eyes roll from a nearby throne.

I treasure the time before tides eventually erode the castle we built.

Dave Myers (he/him) lives and teaches in Bend, Oregon.