Sometimes I’d imagine that compressing the areas of fat would break apart the tissue and allow it to dissolve into my body. In my downtime, I would knead the fat to a pulp.
...
Sometimes I’d imagine that compressing the areas of fat would break apart the tissue and allow it to dissolve into my body. In my downtime, I would knead the fat to a pulp.
...
It’s hard to define, awe. But certainly we know when we feel it. It’s a rare thing, buried under the onslaught of daily routine and the indignities of, say, a red traffic light when we’re late for ...
A blue ribbon marked
First Thessalonians,
where he had underlined—
Be joyful always;
...
About four years ago I first encountered Kyle Seibel’s work while volunteering with this publication (Wrath-Bearing Tree). He submitted a poignant animated story, “Lovebirds,” which surprised and d...
I'd been in Afghanistan for three months when I saw the woman in the marketplace die. Thirty or forty men haggled the price of fruit as she skirted a low stone wall in her burka, stomach swollen in la...
Predators, Reapers and Deadlier Creatures (PR&DC) is unafraid to be funny about serious subjects. Can you tell us some of the books that inspired you to write something as unsettling and wry as...
New poem by John Thampi: Ad Memoriam
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New poetry by Ben White – “Cold” and “Cold II”
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Sometimes in life, one experiences a shock or a revelation so powerful that it stays with you for years. For me, one such shock occurred at the Yavoriv training area in Western Ukraine, in June of 201...
The temperature on this Tuesday morning in Grants Pass, Oregon, is edging up to ninety degrees as Helen Cruz and Justin Wallace enter the J Street Camp. The cloudless sky is a glazed, pale blue. No...
cold laps the shore
no choice but to step in
stride out, stake my place
transmute into tower
...
“This is what he signed up for,”
my mother says when
my brother graduates from West Point.
He always wanted to be a soldier,
so she and I pin the bars on his sho...
Olly stood on a chair in his studio with a noose around his neck. “I’ll never love again,” he moaned. He stared at the blank canvas in front of him. I love my paintings, he thought. But they can’t ...
Does anyone knock anymore? Even at a friend’s house, an office, or my bedroom, I would knock. No one can be too careful. Everyone was out for you. That was what the news told me. That was what was ...
ONLY MUDDY BOOTS AND HELMETS CAKED RUSTING ROTTING IN STEAMING GREENHOUSES STICK UP FROM DECAYED REMAINS CAUSED BY DETESTABLE HUMAN ANGER VENT BY WORLD POLITICAL COMPANY FOUNDED ON INORDINATE DESIR...
New poem by Aramis Calderon: “Loyal”
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I’ve changed all the names in this story except my own. They’re all dead, but … that afterlife thing just might be true. I’m an old man now, but I was ten or eleven or so in this story. Across the ...
New Poem by Carol Alexander: “Late of Somewhere in the East”
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New Poem by Rachel Landrum Crumble: “Against Urgent Brilliance”
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The little mountain-village known as Sheen Bagh sat right on the border. So exact was the placement that the people in the village often did not claim either country that surrounded their home, but...
Each night our mascot—a black and white cat—sneaks into the base searching for a warm lap and scraps of food. Tonight our reconnaissance unit joins an elite group of combat fighters. These guys vol...
I. Valley of Quest Before what happened to Christine, before arriving in Iraq, before even leaving Nebraska, all we knew for sure is that there would be violence and sand. We began by trying to sol...
New Poem by Nathan Didier: “Hearts and Minds”
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New Poetry by Rachel Rix: “Experimental Simulation of Joint Morphology During Desiccation,” “Second Deployment,” “CO’s Canon”
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CROATOAN: A Review of Kevin Honold’s Our Lady of Good Voyage (Orison Books, 2024). Kevin Honold’s Our Lady of Good Voyage begins in an unnamed Ohio town populated with German ghosts. The Germans, t...
Chapter 12 of One Tick Stopped the Clock Published by Legacy Book Press Excerpted from ONE TICK STOPPED THE CLOCK Copyright © 2024 by Jennifer Crystal. Used with permission of Legacy Book Press, Ca...
An Alternate View of Moral Injury Introductory note: I originally composed this essay between 2022-23. I’ve gone back and forth about publishing it; it’s true, I stand by everything I’ve written, b...
New Poetry by Douglas Campbell: “The President’s New Children’s Crusade”
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New Poetry by Sylvia Baedorf Kassis: “Detritus”
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Dr. Maldonado fiddled with the picture of his hot wife and blonde sons, making sure I noticed. Hot professors are rare at Christian universities. They’re mostly Anglican, for some reason. Such a ch...
Fights within the infantry were common enough that their variations came to be source material for a dark form of in-unit comedy. So it was with one of my tussles in the Pendleton dirt. My platoon,...
Danny Llewellyn hadn’t shit himself since he was a toddler, back when nobody minded. Since then, he’d joined the Army, gone to war, left the Army. He was, by most people’s estimations, a man, espec...
The terrorist sat down at the cafe at a quarter to one. She had always been punctual. Beneath her clothing was a bomb improvised from ammonium nitrate. The bomb was uncomfortable. She kept thinking...
New Poem by Richard Epstein: “The Dance”
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New poem by Ellie J. Anderson: “Impact, 1984”
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Doug Rawlings had his life planned out: graduate school, business school, eventual law school, and a career in business. But then, like thousands of other young men, he received the dreaded SSS Fo...
In Okinawa I made a fist and my fingers stuck together that stop over night my one stop before Danang, between two worlds, the flag burning, tear-gas U.S. and the Vietnam rat-tat-tat automat...
Hurl of metal – iron, steel – as shrapnel,
as bail hail, as HE detonation, all
forged and spit out again with new fire,
matériel barrae, meat-mincer for
...
In the remote and forgotten northwestern corner of Vietnam looms the vast, rugged and rain-drenched Hoang Lien Mountains. Here, Vietnam’s tallest summit, the 10,326-foot-high Fan Si Pan, towe...
The chair came to a stop and with great effort, haltingly, the figure lifted himself to his feet. He took a single jerky step forward onto the stage and the wheelchair receded from view. It was L...
New poetry by Jayant Kashyap: “The War”
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New Poetry by Phillip Sitter: “Krakivets, Odyn” and “Elemental”
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Time in a combat zone passes strangely. When you are surrounded by the incredible, the human mind has a tendency to dull your senses so that the days aren’t memorable, but there are a few days that...
Every two or three months Jon and Steven would meet for lunch at the McDonald’s outside the town center where Main Street met Route 1. Jon was married and Steven was single. Steven had been marrie...
The most versatile piece of equipment an infantryman carries is a four-letter word. It can be used in almost every conceivable situation. It’s sharp, cuts smooth and clean. It can sever all manner ...
“Drone up,” said Lieutenant Levi. Heads turned and eyes followed the drone’s swift ascent to the sequoia canopy 350 feet above. It briefly hovered there before slipping out of sight, free of the en...
A Game of Soldiers – A Review of Playing Army by Nancy Stroer LT Minerva Mills is a hot mess. Literally. We meet her with ‘sweat pooling in her waistband’ as her mother rams through a termina...
New Poetry by Shawn McCann: “All I Can Do Is Watch” and “No Way To Fight Back”
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New Poetry by Kathleen Hellen: “People Boats” and “Pretending There Is Garden In The Spring, Paradise In Time”
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Missouri inmate Patty Prewitt has been in prison for almost 40 years. She is serving a life sentence for the murder of her husband, Bill, in 1984. The conviction, however, is problematic. The prose...