War Stories: Mike Francis

Blue Skirt is set to release the anthology War Stories 2015 on December 14th. The project is in conjunction with the How War Effects Us/War Stories series, a monthly gathering of soldiers and civilians to discuss war literature, how war has personally impacted their lives, and to write about their experiences. The anthology is a direct…

The Poe Show

Blue Skirt Productions Presents: The Poe Show!

We are celebrating all things Edgar Allan Poe and Poe-inspired in honor of what would have been his 206th birthday. The night will include Poe’s original works and interpretations of his work, work inspired by Poe, or work roasting him. You can look forward to spoken word, music, improv, and a special guest chosen to close…

Poetry- Rhododendron by James Croal Jackson

RHODODENDRON We remain afloat on the phone without laughter. Positive-negative television signals. There were days when bees could pollinate petals without seeming drunken. Some flowers simply sing of cabernet. Pursue the laurels inherent in your heart. Forever we say we lived. James Croal Jackson dips his feet in many artistic waters. His work has appeared…

Man, Sunlight

24 Gun Salute, a poem by Tom Pescatore

through the caramel colored eye sun streaked paint stain pulled across my floor trailing light an amber bolt of lightning splits rainbow skies shaking color gun shots at steady intervals echo mourning dove cries engines roar memory of steel and carbine hearts of wood carving death Tom Pescatore grew up outside Philadelphia dreaming of the…

Miss Muffet by Katarina Boudreaux

Miss Muffet: I am writing about your tuffet perch just how high you jumped with the spider’s entrance if you were really eating something more tasty than curds — what is whey — like ice cream maybe you needed to hide that because there were some pounds growing or a plan going maybe you actually…

Hope Slumbers Eternal

Hope Slumbers Eternal by Ben Nardolili

Hope Slumbers Eternal Balancing with the topless bottle of vodka And fighting away stray brown hairs, She leans over the faux fur, and faux leather Of an armchair meant for swinging smokers, Though she will not let that sin indoors. A lamp illuminates her hand as she reaches To turn off the vintage egg-yellow light,…

Butter

Poetry by Jack Evans

A SILENCE LEFT BETWEEN THE PAGES OF A BORROWED BOOK The last time we spoke Of this our flesh was Warm as summer butter Tongues aligned like Birds in flight If there was an eternity It was surely then Wrapped in evergreen And pale melody Each touch like The waking of a new Born sun…