Bad French and Ficus Trees by Matt Randall Disturbed by the dying air conditioning, the dusty fake tree beats a torn branch against the dirty window. I look at it and wonder why it hasn’t been replaced—or dusted. At the... Continue Reading →
Before by Matt Randall I still remember that summer the hot June days eating blackberries on your mother’s back porch paying no attention to the clouds slowly gathering like old women at a garage sale in that world our days... Continue Reading →
Waffles and a Blueberry Muffin by Matt Randall She sniffs, turns her head away. He stares, mouth filled with unsaid words aching to fill the coffee-scented silence. She picks at her uneaten muffin, raspberry red nails plucking wrinkled blueberries out... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 