Often, South Flight will offer a line or an entire poem all but exploding with agony and suffering.
(reviews)
I trip on cobblestones sticking out of the earth like busted tombstones.
(nonfiction)
He knew the affair he was having with the composer, that it should have been me.
(nonfiction)
I don’t know what he expected to see. My disfigurement is not external
(fiction)
the latest in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. Okay. Working on it…”
(poetry)
For a few years we took turns breaking each other’s hearts, casting each other away, reeling each other back in.
(nonfiction)
Can a town named Phoenix rise from the ash?
(nonfiction)
The first in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“There isn’t any us, baby.”
(fiction)
I go to the county jail to see one father and discover that the other one is there.
(interview)
Beneath the tree, grasses of pale yellow and green commingle to create a neon shade reminiscent of Mello Yello, a soda from my childhood….
(nonfiction)
A tabby, a calico, a Bengal, a Persian, even one of those hairless Egyptian numbers. Black cats, white cats, ginger cats, grey cats. They climbed all over each other, over the trees, in piles on the ground. Floor to ceiling, nothing but cats.
(fiction)
“Easing onto the Shoulder” by Kevin Grauke (poetry)
“Afternoon Session” by Nathanael O’Reilly (poetry)
I was in Colorado because seventy-plus hour workweeks punctuated by martinis had swallowed me whole.
(nonfiction)
“Nature is healing,” says a small tin sign in front of a dried up cornfield.
(nonfiction)
Another Chicago Magazine 