Photography by Marius G. Sipa
Photography by Marius G. Sipa


Marius G. Sipa | bio

Photography by Marius G. Sipa

Photography by Marius G. Sipa


Candace Black | bio

Blue and White

In a busy city you stopped, and thinking
of me, fingered trinkets, deciding at last on a small

box the clerk suggested could be used to store Cocaine.

Or dope. Or Cocaine ... [more]

John McKernan | bio

The Civil War

In Nebraska was waged
With a particular ferocity

The absent trees
Hid their shadows
Beneath acres of prairie grass ... [more]

One Side

Of the skull
Is a skull

What is left over
From the calcium
Atoms of assorted cattle & sheep ... [more]

James Tyner | bio

Attacked by a Pitbull, 1989

It’s buried in your forearm, your Christmas jacket tearing,
and its eyes are all white now, and its cheeks are puffed

with breath, with growls, and you’re thinking the kids
are going to be home soon ... [more]

Learning About War Through Painting

My brother’s been back since March
and already war is leaving him.
He slept till one today, no covers,
just boxer shorts and sweat ... [more]


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Amy Ash
| bio

Still, Life  

All we are left with is ruined,
bruised fruit. The orange,

sunken and separated, soft
like the head of a newborn ... [more]


Mandy Malloy | bio

The C.E.O.’s Announcement,
Transcribed By My Heart

I find myself compelled to tell you
about my journey to find beauty.
How I watched it fight
to give itself up to words ... [more]


Volume 5.3 | Winter 2010

Editor’s Notes—The Wonderful Melee

The sky looks like it portends snow, and the maples are bare of all the brilliant fall colors they had just weeks ago. This morning, a woodpecker was busily drilling the tree in our yard, and like the woodpecker, I feel the urgent need to tidy up the winter supplies.... [more]



Lindsay Merbaum | bio

Travel Guide

I keep taking pictures of nothing: on the street corner with a bum sifting carefully through the trash, sitting in the library among all the unloved books, standing outside my worn-out apartment building. Who knows how many other people have lived there, maybe died in there? If it was once a sweatshop, a brothel? Who knows about the history of this place? A woolly mammoth could’ve taken a dump on 3rd Avenue and we would never know. Did you ever think of that? [more]

Paige Riehl | bio

The Fat Lady at the Dairy Barn

I ring up pop rockets, a Starburst, and a cherry dip cone for a little girl with blonde braids and sticky hands. While my fingers press the dirty numbers on the cash register, I watch her out of the corner of my eye. With her vanilla skin and that Smurfette shirt, no doubt the kid is cute. She kind of reminds me of myself when I was six. She struggles to unwrap a Starburst with one hand and licks the dip cone in the other. The cone tilts slightly to the left, not my greatest work, and she licks it into the Leaning Tower of Pisa ... [more]

Gregory J. Wolos | bio


“It’s not the idea of a snake that bothers me—” Susan said when Michael pleaded their son’s case for the pet. “But what will it eat?”

“Pinkies,” Michael said.


“Frozen baby mice—the size of an eraser.”

“They’re tiny, see?” Justin held up one of his new school pencils and tapped its end. [more]


Emily Adler | bio

The Summer of Our Unemployment

The sun rises and treads overhead, a 45-degree angle devastating the bedroom in brightness. It’s hot in here. The air conditioner is off. There’s the electric bill to think about. Also, the environment.

On the earliest mornings and the coolest afternoons, we run. Five of us. Heart-healthy individuals. Sometimes there’s a sixth runner. Sometimes he temps instead. [more]

Tom Molanphy | bio

The Last Hand-Me-Down

It’s dark in my brother’s closet. Brian, my other brother, rummages through bathroom drawers, rattling painkillers in their bottles. He’s checking for used razors, combs, brushes—anything with hair or skin or “part of Paul.” My Dad, on his knees in the living room, jimmies the lock on a long, black trunk, a keepsake of Paul’s from our Uncle Jack. He clears his throat in the deep, rumbling way he does before diving into a tough job. We’re each looking for what to take and what to leave. [more]


Click here to see our nominations for the Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses XXXVI anthology (2012 Edition)


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