This Month

Internet Inferno

by Diane Boisvert

Life is tough enough, isn't it?

We battle each day to get by. We groan and grumble -
Complain and mumble things under our breath.
Just to put us to the test enters --

THE COMPUTER WORM

Horror of horrors! What is this thing?? It acts as though
It's a king or something. I really believe it's from outer space. They say it just sits for a while...waiting to attack.
Continue reading »

Passing Bye

RXN

by Mitch Tirea

Stop what?

What are you talking about?

You are nothing but a dream, a memory that needs to be repressed, an illusion that breaks my order and a feeling that asks for fulfillment. You are a hope without hope, an expectation without reward, adoration without refinement, a presence without existence and love without chance.

I made an image of you in my head that does not allow you to exist in my life, I have built an image that has no comparison or human resemblance, a result of a sick imagination that flew too far to survive, and became too big to breathe, it smothered itself into its own decent death, basked in actions of contradiction that defy the feeling behind it and masked by a bifurcated cleverness that did nothing but cancel each other out. Continue reading »

Black Indian

by Ryan Lind

He was black, like he had just emerged from a coal mine. Eyes wild; the whites shimmered like a set of pearls, too large for a human skull to contain. Black irises set beneath a bony outcropping mimicking a brow. He peered at my 6 year old frame silently and then retreated behind a tree in a blink. When I had mustered the courage to walk a wide circle to inspect whomever it was who hid behind the tree, to my dismay, he had disappeared. He must have wormed his way silently through the lilacs. Had I imagined him?

The tree that he hid behind nearly every time he appeared was my tree; well, one of them. Reaching the first branch was hard work, not like the old apricot tree on the other side of the property. Her branches converged low, maybe 3 feet off the ground. The apricot tree was easy to climb. Grab two branches and swing your body up against the force of your arms. My favorite jelly came from this tree.

The other tree, the one we both laid claims to, bore no fruit. Young boys are unable to identify trees without fruit or flowers. This tree shot up into the sky like a skyscraper though it had a slight lean to the East. Its bark was hard and shiny. There were wrinkles around the knots. It must have been a 10 foot climb to reach the first branch. On most climbing days I was ill-dressed for such adventures in this tree; humid Minnesota summers require shorts and tee shirts.
Continue reading »

From a Far Place

By T.R. Healy

His head inclined, staring idly at his watch, Komives sat near the end of
a middle row in the hospital conference room. Behind him, in a voice as blunt
as a slap across the face, he heard some guy complain that the meeting tonight
was a complete waste of time.

"They think we don't know what we did was wrong? Of course we
do. We're not children."

"No, we're not," the woman beside him chimed in wearily.

"I've got a client I'm suppose to have dinner with at eight."

"I was told the meeting shouldn't take more than thirty minutes."

"That's what people having meetings always say and before you know it an hour's gone by."

"The court order you here?"
Continue reading »

Art

by Diane Boisvert

Swirls, lines in all directions ,blurs and smudges.
Who judges what is art?

Anarchy is what it seems to be!
The brightest color wins. The boldest figure dominates.

Geometric designs not aligned with anything.
All over the place, every space reverberates a mantra.

Hazy mazes make us look for some sense.
To find a way out of the mess.

Modern, abstract - not exact at all.
A kind of free fall.

You call that art!!

Of course I do, It all happened long ago when my
holly leaves were too fat and my berries were too small.
Or was it the other way around.

It doesn't matter. The laughter was real. It hurt my feelings.

From that day on I was friends with art. We did our part.
Now it's for you to figure out.

Art was a Big Part of the Experience

by Annette LaSelle

Poring over the jobs posted on the bulletin board in the basement post office of the College of St. Catherine, we three girlfriends were intently narrowing our choices for this year’s lark, which was currently masquerading as a proper summer job. We spent some time with the finalists. The winner was declared when we agreed that this job, of all the offerings posted, had the greatest potential for juiciness and that it was, as an added benefit, the furthest away from home and therefore the least likely to tell tales.

Last summer’s choice had been a beaut. We had gotten ourselves all the way across the Atlantic Ocean to Bad Salzhausen, Germany. There we worked as kitchen/chamber maids at a Kriegsblinden Kurheim for about a month, while we simultaneously hung out with the United States army stationed nearby. We were supposed to have a longer working assignment than a measly month but, since we were supposed to have a working knowledge of German too, Frau Hindenburg decided she had no more need to keep her side of the bargain than we had, apparently, felt the need to keep ours. Continue reading »