Flying Island

Chicago Weekend by Jennifer Lemming   jazz and blues             and funky, funky news.   Cabrini Green’s ghost   and low down tickets,             notes to tell your lover,             written in another language, so no one can read it but you, and one day             even you will forget the words             but still taste the meaning. Bio: Jennifer Lemming grew up in Elkhart, Ind., and lived in Indianapolis for 15 years before recently moving to Bismarck, N.D.

Lake Lure by Jo Barbara Taylor   Sunrise greets the sleeping tarn, quiet in the lap of mountain mist. Mourning doves hold their sighs, and antelope tiptoe across tawny meadow, smooth like thatch, muffled with dew. As the play of dawn stirs passion in those depths, water will lick the banks like a cow washing her calf to life.   When the calf bawls it first maaw, (and so it is, you know, the stir within each of us) the antelope thunder over the land, doves croon their distant lament, (draw us into day) and ripples begin to skim the surface of the mountain mere. Bio: Jo Barbara Taylor lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, grew up in Indiana, and remains an Indiana farm girl at heart. Her poems and academic writing have appeared in journals, including Tipton Poetry Journal and Inwood Indiana , magazines, and anthologies. She leads poetry workshops for the North Carolina Poetry Society and OLLI through Duke Continuing Education. She has ...

In lieu of air conditioning by Bet Lewis Mom snaps the shirt off and over my head giving my arms no choice but to acquiesce. She holds my T-shirt under the tap. I press my bare, flat chest against the cool porcelain of the pedestal sink to watch the fabric absorb and darken. She wrings it out and up-nods her head— her subtle command for me to raise arms into the dark cool shirt. She sends me to bed, a drop of water sliding down my leg. Bio: Bet Lewis uses writing, photography, and digital collage to explore and understand how various ego-states develop and effect the self. She holds a BFA from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and resides in Indianapolis with her partner, daughter, and two worthless cats.

Hello America, I’m Here by Luke Austin Daugherty Verse 1 : Well, I salute you Lady of the Bay— What more could I say— The first generation on a free man’s soil— How could I ask for more Chorus : Does a cup of coffee taste better over here— And is music that much sweeter to the ear— Oh, and you get more days in a year— Well hello, America, I’m here V2 : And I ain’t speakin’ the language so good— I’m just a choppin’ it up, like I’m choppin’ wood— But if you listen to my heart, you’ll get what I mean— I’m just livin’ the American dream Bridge: All the colors here— They’re like a painting so fine— And the taste of a vintage wine V3 : My wife and baby son are still overseas —I hope to have him here by the time that he turns three— Until then, I’ll be working in high gear— Hey, hey, hello… America, I’m here. Play chorus 2x To hear Luke Austin Daugherty sing this sing, click here: https://youtu.be/nkrk2mF2aRs Bio : http://www.lukeaustindaugherty.com/_biography