The online literary journal of Greenfield Community College

Raymond

Raymond

  No pleasure in meat, dairy, sugar, white flour, nor in novels, military history, science fiction, or organized religion. He’s not without reverence– Cecil Taylor, Allen Ginsberg, glacial erratics. He curses when he loses traction, skins his knee. “Age,” he tells the bathroom mirror, “is a state of mind. That...
70 Soles

70 Soles

   estremezco del brillo de cuerpo en cuerpo del brillo del frío de cuero de ante parezco sencillo soy cuerpo en cuerpo mi tribu me cerca son sobrevivientes y yo sobrevivo con tribu y cuerpo y bajo del combi ya sola de nuevo   Translation: I shiver from the shine...
A Shoe

A Shoe

   ruimc77 via Compfight   A shoe hung from the gutter. Caught by its white laces, the shoe didn’t move. It was like a rabbit held by the ears. The woman didn’t know how it got onto the roof of her house. It hadn’t been there yesterday. She was sure...
Dead Reputations

Dead Reputations

Bryan Brenneman via Compfight   He had been in a hell of a fight like being kicked twenty times in the head. Of course, he would know, like that time coming out of Driscoll’s, fighting those three guys from the flats, the tall one saying, This stupid shit won’t stay...
Will Anyone Harbor a Broken Poetess?

Will Anyone Harbor a Broken Poetess?

    Book-skimming is a bit like brushing fingertips across the face of the ocean. You caress a page and probe no deeper. Turn to the art tomes when words go from chime-clear to brassy. By the window of the bookhaven perches the kind of woman you don’t ask for...
Latest submissions
Fighters

Fighters

The click, click of old Irish gold and wedding ring passed from nurse to hand, after a tug over a knuckle cracked and rooted in the past like an old ground stump.   Across the dance floor, at the Heidelberg bar, after a stranger’s slap to the ass of his wife, the fighter taught by...
Price of Beauty

Price of Beauty

What beautiful eyes you have. Look how gorgeous you are. Do you have a boyfriend? Oh, you’ll be a heartbreaker. Little girl grew up surrounded by praise, Words that kept her warm, even on rainy days. Looking in the mirror, she saw what they did, A beautiful girl, like you’d see in a vid. Nothing...
Let's Twine!

Let’s Twine!

Twine?  You mean a piece of rope? To wrap around something? Not quite. Twine is a way to make interactive, non-linear stories on the web.  And Plum’s started one! Here’s how it works: 1. Click the link to our Plum Twine: http://philome.la/HeyPlum/plum-twine 2. Read the excerpt and click on any of the highlighted words. 3....
Baltra

Baltra

I am perhaps the only professional artist to ever be hired for a job at a scientific research firm. The offer came in the form of an email from my high school friend Damaris. “I need my right brain,” she’d written as the subject line. That was our high school joke. She was the left...
The Salt of the Earth

The Salt of the Earth

The boy is burning in the front seat of the pickup. The sun feels too close to the earth, and the heat rises like gasoline fumes from the rust-colored hood—the kind of heat that keeps the birds from singing and makes the gun dogs dig ditches in the yard and lay in them. Pop goes...
Snow Angels

Snow Angels

Where fly the angels, the angels carried here by the lightness of snow, where fly their feathery wings their soft knowing hearts their prayers they say for us and the ones they answer. Where fly the angels that dance in the flurries sideways, upside down, right side up and crossways; where fly the angels that...
The Field

The Field

  I love this green field! It’s forest green.               Never before have I seen such greenery. I love this green field! The deer feed heavily in this field. Turkeys are chasing each other around. I love this green field! The coyote watches the turkeys. What a beautiful morning....
Burn

Burn

Mere feet from fire station, the Big Y thief burns an old couple in their bed. Cut throats, empty wallets, then burn. Mami shoves some chicken into microwave. Twenty minutes on high. Papi’s pollo scorches,her fingertips burn. Jahn Foundry explosion. No more skin on Pablo’s fingers to touch his melting face, to fling off flaming...
Soldier-You, Exile-You

Soldier-You, Exile-You

The more you shared memories that broke off inside you, the longer I stayed every time you hit me. At nineteen, I thought that was love. Soldier-you smoked opium to forget boys, whose high-pitched voices chimed about promises of bikes, rice above rations, even a lamb. Khomeini, short on tanks and men, ordered soldiers to...
Gunpowder Green with Jedediah Berry

Gunpowder Green with Jedediah Berry

            A few weeks ago, I sat in the Fresh Side in Amherst, ruminating over the tea choices. Local author and professor of creative writing at Bard College, Jedediah Berry, was meeting me there to talk about writing and his very successful novel The Manual of Detection. I am not a tea aficionado, but Berry...
Running with Dogs

Running with Dogs

    Mid November in the January Hills, hunting ends at sundown. Shotgun season for deer wouldn’t begin for another two weeks, the shortest days and darkest nights of early December. Valerie and Jim drove their mismatched, rowdy pack of dogs into the hills where only the locals hunted, where no one was likely to...
Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Like—who?—a Zennist Who is lit up by a chunk of the mundane— Shinkichi Takahashi eternally burning seeing the baby’s Turd afloat in the communal bath— I’m walking past the greyhounds’ owners’ house When a tinkling chord from their portico Boards me. I am the most stupid For one finger snap, asking why is dad on...