Kathryn Knudson
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Winter Rain by Kathryn Knudson

Winter Rain   A few months in, the rain     is no longer a novelty.     I don’t know what           feels more defeating     the understanding that this relentless seeping       could be winter for        as far as I can see     or the realization that this        time next year I may choose to be bundled up   a thousand miles away…

Donald Quist
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Snowman by Donald Quist

Snowman He fell to the earth in pieces, fat fluffy flakes of cold-water life. He covered roads, cars and houses. When his coal eyes blinked open, he stared down his carrot nose at the divine imperfections of his creators—the wrinkled red hands and snot covered lips of tiny gods—and he knew he was doomed. He…

Stephen Evans
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The Smiles by Stephen Evans

When I heard that my grandfather had barricaded himself in his room, I wasn’t surprised. He and my mother had been battling one another since our first day in the house outside of Cheshire, Massachusetts, and no surrender was in sight from either side. But if my mother’s phone call was not surprising, her worried…

Rachael Fowler
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Lost King by Rachael Fowler

Lost King Mint leaf —clutched by black-bruised fingers. Most crumble and crack from woodsy earth surrounding town after town. Mint does not shatter into scratchy paper pieces, but folds around my skin, clings to my fingerprints. Fuzzy, not a common green leaf quality. I’m Winter-lonesome, scouring for the maple queen of whiskey. Farewell dear king…

Ana Prundaru
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Love Letter to Autumn by Ana Prundaru

Love Letter to Autumn         by Ana Prundaru the last rose petals in the morning mist eye the bare branches waiting to join to the crinkly coat of leaves Ana is a writer/artist who roams the globe sometimes. Her work has most recently appeared in Agave Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Toad, Rio Grande Review, SmokeLong…

Emily Frankenberg
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Processes by Emily Frankenberg

Ceaseless is the process of fitting our September souls into a January world, the sharpened pencils of our hopes into a bag of half erasures, the virgin blankness of our planners into boxes at the door. Imperceptible is the process of the treetops turning brown, of gray horizons slowly closing in their bounds. And yet…

Amaryllis Lyle
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Collisions in Retrograde by Amaryllis Lyle

Collisions in Retrograde by Amaryllis Lyle   There were once November afternoons When he helped me over chain-link fences or held my hot coffee for me while I smoothed my skirt and blinked into the mirror.                How many Novembers have passed                 since then?                Not many,                but I lost count. And on this particular November…

dl mattila
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Autumn by dl mattila

Autumn     by dl mattila sheds  scarlet hued,   crunch-n-rustle, bone-brittle leafchips,  airborne whirling windships, inebriated petals guzzling chilled  autumn swill.   Stunt pilot yellowreds crazy-eight  overhead, featherweight drifters on blade-burnished air. Swirling trees  dance striptease   while whispered leavings from lofty berths  parasail down to earth’s muted palette of felled festooning. Bio: dl mattila is the author of…

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