Bullets into Bells

By Lisa Norris I can’t look at the markers on the field for the slain who were shot, and last night’s production of Lear, when good Gloucester’s eyes were removed, is in my brain on continuous loop: once, I was happy here, wasn’t I? I grew tomatoes, raised children and taught people who went on … More Revisiting Virginia Tech

By Allison Blevins   when a school becomes a front line, it helps to imagine my children at their desks still as stones. It helps me to remember that some bullets were meant for some children like prophecies inscribed on metal:  name, location, hair and eye color. I imagine my own children startled into the … More On Days Like This Day,

By Conor Kelly About the Author Conor Kelly is an Irish poet, living in a rural town in West Clare. He has had poems printed in Irish, British, American and Mexican magazines.

  By Jen Karetnick   Don’t offer me the Chic Lady Handgun with a barrel the color of bubblegum, faux alligator case included to carry with tests and term papers done, nor the Ruger with recoil reduced, semi-automatic, raspberry hued, to be hung from a bra holster like fruit until an active shooter has been … More How to Dis/Arm a Female Teacher

By Cintia Santana “How Does This Compare with Other Mass Shootings? —New York Times, June 12, 2016 On one hand, I hold the iPhone, all news made small, and on the other, your hand, by which I also mean the memory of your breath, tracing my face as morning opened around us. How do I … More Scales

Dispatch from this Summer Gypsy moth: Lymantria dispar dispar By Elizabeth Bradfield Frayed, moth-eaten, vulnerable. Those Florida dancers gunned down & my young self coming out dancing & pathetic fallacy (dispar dispar) crawls all over June’s fresh oaks, gnawing them to a February canopy. The news, bad oracle, gnaws fact & rumor. Above, unrelenting mastication, … More Dispatch from this Summer

By Emari DiGiorgio    It might rile up the bull, but any gypsy grandmother who worships the cornicello knows red resists evil. Hidden beneath clothes like a narc’s slim-fit Kevlar vest, or on the outside like a badge. On the day I might die, I spurn sensible shoes. I once sprinted eight long Manhattan blocks in … More What to Wear on the Day I Might Die