My mother was an amphetamine addict who left me in a gas station bathroom somewhere east of Maniac, Georgia, when I was four. The last thing I saw of her was her hand, held up, not waving but still. Soon after, I was ...
The Dead Cat by Whitney Collins
Fiction, LAR Online
Hard leather valid as the exchange between AJ & Free, solid as the greasefrom the hour prior I cooked intoa charade of dark. I’ve heard love is known by three names though it has only shared one with me. I shout ...
Pelle Pelle by Olatunde Osinaike
LAR Online, Poetry
The ramps by Midpark were flooded and now the loons thought they could make their homes anywhere. John-Mark and I had visited his side of the family in Manila, and the flight back was turbulent. We were watching that ...
Covenant by Mason Koa
Flash Fiction, LAR Online
First I learn who I am and where I come from. I learn to ask who you are and where you come from. I understand your name even though it has a foreign sound to it and I had never heard it before, I understand that it's ...
Nils and Agnieszka by Anita Harag Translated from Hungarian by Marietta Morry and Walter Burgess
LAR Online, Translations
are the terrible builders of the stars. In this falseparsing,I seated myself inhis terrace all wrong. In the golden dust of our toppledtowers, once-real, the scaffoldedreturn of petals, vines, trumpets, nectar guides. ...
Bees by Marcus Myers
LAR Online, Poetry
There’s a window I stare out of sometimes when I’m convinced John doesn’t love me anymore. It’s a tiny circular one in the kitchen that faces the icy Upper Delaware River, which winds and bends under a swarm of ...
The Know-It-All by Madison Durand
Fiction, LAR Online
Despite clouded chlorine vision, Mom's August-tanned legs extending from strappy white sandals to pressed white shorts were unmistakable. She stood at the edge of the Newbridge Road pool with Patrick, the baby, ...
Skutch by Jeanne-Marie Fleming
LAR Online, Nonfiction
One-Way Street But what once was will never return. Time is a one-way street.The waterfall of the present forever roars,and we forever wade through it with dry feet: the past swallows it in the blink of an eye. Feet ...
One-Way Street by Zsuzsa Rakovszky, translated by Anna Szemere
LAR Online, Translations
She will not tell me about my death.Outside is a blue Asheville sky and the blue mountains one always sees— except here in the psychic’s small bone-chilled room. She says my mother is proud of me, and my father ...
ELEGY WITH PSYCHIC by Maja Lukic
LAR Online, Poetry
