April 8, 2018

“Stinkbugs” by Michael Colbert

“Stinkbugs” by Michael Colbert

The stinkbugs came in when Sandra’s sister was dying. Every night after cooking dinner, Robert sat down on his couch to watch “Breaking Bad.” A hum announced itself and his eyes alighted on the perpetrator, a flat brown bug that jetted across the ceiling and then lazed on a new perch. He caught them and released them and wondered how he could eradicate the stinkbugs from his apartment. One time the stinkbug was green. Robert worked at a small furniture startup called Simple Build in New Haven. They sold couches and coffee tables that were easier to put together than products from Ikea. Robert was in marketing; their chief audience was millennials, except all of their furniture was too expensive for millennials. As a result, most of the people who bought their products and liked…

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April 3, 2018

“Witches Gone Wicked: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches” By Sarina Dorie, Part 2

“Witches Gone Wicked: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches” By Sarina Dorie, Part 2

As promised, following Chapters 1 and 2 yesterday, here are Chapters 3 and 4 of Witches Gone Wicked. If you like what you’ve read, the author has a special, limited time offer for you. You can have a free copy of the ebook in exchange for writing a brief review. If you’re interested, please go to InstaFreebie to claim your copy. Once you’ve finished, please thank Sarina by posting a review on Amazon or Goodreads.   Witches Gone Wicked: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches by Sarina Dorie Chapter Three Encounters of the Witchkin Kind   I had hoped that once I came to Womby’s, everything would be clear to me: I would understand where I came from and how my powers worked. Now that I knew my best friend, Derrick, was in this realm, I…

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March 28, 2018

“A Poet of Sorts” by Rashmi Prakash

“A Poet of Sorts” by Rashmi Prakash

Here is a lovely, reflective poem for you today. I. Cross, out-of-sorts at odds, always in want of a better word I’m a poet of sorts.   Crucified on the cross- roads of time and purpose I stand and ponder: if the road I’m on   is less traveled or more? Cars spin 360 degrees below, as I watch from my Ivory Tower   40 feet above is enough too much reality is not good for me. I’m fussy.   I don’t like to get my feet dirty. Head planted firmly in the clouds I take great strides   across the seven seas. Cross deserts; climb peaks. Sometimes, I’m seen millions of light years away.   I straddle both worlds. Clearly, I’ve businesses of my own to attend. Philosopher at large   sage, devil, demigod…

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February 14, 2018

Happy Valentine’s Day to All!

Happy Valentine’s Day to All!

Your baristas wish you and your loved ones a Happy Valentine’s Day! Each of us has chosen a V-Day message to share with you:   Caitlin: “Sometimes I think of you and I feel giddy. Memory makes me lightheaded, drunk on champagne. All the things we did. And if anyone has said this was the price I would have agreed to pay it. That surprises me; that with the hurt and the mess comes a shift of recognition. It was worth it. Love is worth it.” -Written on the Body by Jeannette Winterson:   (A little Valentine’s message for parents…) “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”  -Elizabeth Stone, A Boy I Once Knew   “The brain appears to…

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February 11, 2018

Introducing Steve Sangapore, FC’s New Visual Arts Barista

Introducing Steve Sangapore, FC’s New Visual Arts Barista

We’re incredibly proud to introduce Steve Sangapore, our new visual arts barista. Steve is a contemporary surrealist painter based in Boston, MA. He is a 2013 graduate of Albertus Magnus College in New Haven, CT, where he earned a dual-B.A. in studio art and graphic design. His interest in science and philosophy has been the driving force behind much of his latest work. His incredibly unique, awe-inspired view on those topics has led his paintings to be exhibited nationally and published in art magazines and journals, including Art Business News, Creative Quarterly, Artscope, and  Art Reveal Magazine. You can see how widely his art has been on public view at his website About page. Several of  Steve’s works appear beneath his Artist’s Statement. We’re looking forward to him introducing new artists and perspectives on the visual arts to you,…

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February 6, 2018

“Sitter Envy” by Christopher S. Bell

“Sitter Envy” by Christopher S. Bell

Even on a Friday, Nina felt guilty calling off. She wouldn’t have to improvise a cough on Monday; her fellow technicians recapping their weekends in expenses and well-planned excursions, an occasional raw moment surfacing from the dust. Usually this meant somebody out of place wandered in, caused a ruckus, and migrated back to their designated end. Flagstaff had many corners to facilitate bad habits. “Don’t pick your nose, honey,” Nina instructed her son, both mildly catatonic on the sofa. She’d wanted to have an adventure with Levi that day, take him somewhere new and gauge his expression. Instead, her four-year-old spent a good portion of the morning sleeping before they discussed Shirley over breakfast. The young boy had grown quite fond of his babysitter, championing their endless summer in between bites. Beyond disappointment, Nina felt…

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January 31, 2018

“Forgetting She Forgot” by Roger McKnight

“Forgetting She Forgot” by Roger McKnight

Addie Voss’s Michael was the one with asthma, but she learned to share it with him.  He wheezed and hacked and she complained about his clogged-up tubes like they were her own.  Looking for relief, the two fled Illinois and headed for sunny Albuquerque, but the desert air gave Michael nosebleeds.  In Redding and Denver, it was the heat or the altitude.  That had been the go-around since they got married in the early ‘90s, nomading it here and there, looking, hoping. Now today, an ordinary Tuesday, Addie was waiting in confusion at San Francisco International for a plane back to Minneapolis, their latest city, where she had left Michael and their four kids a couple days earlier.  For Michael, jobs were plentiful in Minnesota, even if breathing remained a chore.  She guessed other things…

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January 4, 2018

New Year’s Poetry by Chimezie Ihekuna

New Year’s Poetry by Chimezie Ihekuna

Editor’s Note: Please see Simran’s review of  Chimezie’s – “Mr. Ben’s” – collected works in the Reviews section. Be Inspired When you’re down, you tend to be close to your feet and consequently, close to defeat. But for the sake of success, please rise to your feet. That’s the feat!                                          Succeeding The Race Success is the race, So, you should to move at your pace  After all, it’s your lane So don’t let your strength wane It’s about completing your journey Don’t let anyone take you funny There are no competitions Because you know your onions Reaching the finish line is its own accomplishment Then you will appreciate the beauty of your commitment   Talking Thoughts Talking can be cheap But its consequence might be difficult to keep Its seeds can be weak…

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December 20, 2017

Reimagining Kristen Roupenian’s Short Story, “Cat Person”

Reimagining Kristen Roupenian’s Short Story, “Cat Person”

Editor’s Note: From time to time, fiction and real life converge like a solar eclipse. The “ME TOO” movement and a short story by Kristen Roupenian entitled “Cat Person,” published recently in The New Yorker, have crossed paths and set the world on its ear. It’s a timely story, to be sure, but it’s also something of a literary fete: the author’s first short story, controversial as hell, accepted by the country’s most prestigious magazine (and one of the few still publishing fiction), which immediately landed Roupenian a book contract with Scout Press, reports the New York Times. Like Roupenian, Rachael Allen is a college student who found herself able to relate to the short story and draw some shared experiences into a complex skein of perception, emotion and experience that reaches out beyond the…

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December 19, 2017

“Once Pink Youth” – Poetry by Hope Bolinger

“Once Pink Youth” – Poetry by Hope Bolinger

Drip Castles Teardrops of North Carolina sand bite into Pure pink skin, The color of raw sunsets—of a conch’s innards—of a teething child’s gums.   A sunburnt fist Plunges into a wan Bucket full Of sludgy sand.   The Atlantic water on top of the Sunken soil sloshes like Stomach acid.   Fistfuls of sopping slush Form spires of mire, tilt(yards) of silt, ditches of grit—graves of gravel.   Alas, pure pink castles of Muddied fancies Disappear   In a wave Of briny ocean breakers Dissolving into a stump of once-pink youth.   Snow Questions Spring Yellowed school books say Spring makes all fair beings grow, do ashen teachers see sun’s rays—sickles, shred Snow? Sharp grass blades impale, sting? No frail child, browning slush, murky backwash from tires muddied your thoughts. Infant soft moss Spring…

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