The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Rose For GazaGaza is a garden full of roses.
Stone roses. Rock roses. No petals to crush and bruise to release their fragrance. Only dust. Dust and the stench of death. No green space left. No sweet tranquility, peace or quiet. No escape. No garden of Eden here. No gateway to paradise. Rubble and rock roses. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Free Range FunBy Steven Joseph McCrystal QuailBellMagazine.com From within the seraph’s woods at night
a stark naked kiss beckons the brave; the reckless, and the free. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
More Things The Guns EatWHAT THE GUN EATS #100 The stone. The stone. The stone is chasing me. The st- one wants my garden to be a st- one garden. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Hashtags and SuchDid you taste the news today?
A shot of brined melancholy that ages bones, eats away at precious linings. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
InfestationBy Laurie Kolp QuailBellMagazine.com of you, no amount of chemical can wash away
remains, no hour among 24 thousand single strands, no follicle fulfilled with falsities insane doing the same thing, doing the same thing The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Den mother is a woman with spools of ribbon in case you lose your ownSnow dusts the yearning arms of tumbleweeds. In a full moon my mother cut
bit by bit. Fur, tail, pointed ears she’s sewn to my head. Knife slice, deveined blood drain. She skin peeled and then stitched me full full of desert blood, full of coyote. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
On Mood Rings and Wedding Ringsthrough the peephole, your face
as distorted as my mind, gray in tight yoga pants and tank throwing up all the stuff my apartment trashed empty The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Nefertiti: Lady of All WomenBy Katherine Givens QuailBellMagazine.com Amarna, Egypt
1345 B.C. The hands of Aten reached into Thutmose’s workshop, the god’s light fanning throughout the artisan’s realm. Stone sculptures of the royal family basked in Aten’s divinity, but his rays favored one figurine above all others. Nefertiti’s bust, a modello for Thutmose’s workhands. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Southern TreesWords by Ren Martinez @renthemusical Image by Gretchen Gales @GGalesQuailBell QuailBellMagazine.com There’s a saying in my family: you can’t outrun your ghosts.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
White TrashBy Molly Murray QuailBellMagazine.com They fill our apartment complex
with carcogenic waves – second-hand smoke, b.o., marijuana that smells like pee – nicotine clouds and sweaty cuss words squeeze between us and our sunset view. |