Author: blackbearreview

Butterflies by River Mossfield

Scattered  across  my  arms  like  constellations  in  the  skyA  kaleidoscope  of  butterflies,Wings  painted  in  silky  smooth  inkEach  with  its  own  unique  design,Its  own  enchanting  name.But  each  with  the  same  purpose:To  keep  me  from  harm Two  instruments  sit  in  front  of  me,One  that  draws  in  crimsonAnd  the  other  in  ebony  ash,One  with  a  dangerous  edgeAnd  one 

Read More »

Peace of Yard By Joaquín F. Salazar Leyva

This story takes place in a quiet town. It has a downtown that is the centre of almost all the commercial activities, but a considerable rural area has remained over time. In a yard, an old but decent dwelling prolongs its existence. Inside this dwelling, two sofas decorate an empty living room with a table

Read More »

Thinking of You by Cassidy LaFond

I am sitting by the oceanAnd I’m thinking of youof inky wishing stones and straw hatsFloating on the surfaceConsumed by viscous memories slipping my mind I am watching the loonsThey call for you stillBaying in the smoky portsEach methodical note rippling away forever in hopes to reach you I am in my roomA hope chest

Read More »

August by Cassidy LaFond

Where I am fromit’s a late August morningfresh eggs and Canadian baconit’s my brother’s old flannelcowboy bootsand work clothesit’s the tender sun on a dusty truck dashboardwith sleep still in our eyesit’s John Denver on the radio Where I am fromit’s a late August afternoondriver seat pushed all the way forwardpink boots barely touching the

Read More »

Departure by Randy Janzen

     Stuart doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t want to stay either.  He gazes around him – passengers coming and going, creating a turbulence that sweeps him to the side, paralyzed, drowning.  A confusion of swirling colors, pastel sandals and navy-blue winter jackets, giving ambiguous clues about people’s destinations.  Stuart’s anxiety about what’s coming

Read More »

Time to Pack by Andrena Zawinski

            Zoey lifted the bicycle from the curb where she had taken a spill startled by the military jeep so close to her rounding the corner. Cold steel pressed against her forehead, her eyes traveling up the barrel to a finger on the trigger.             Her in-laws’ housekeeper, Carmelita, dashed into the street screaming at

Read More »

The Pen by Maggie Silverson

I can see her,everlasting ripples along glass.The river is carrying her through the earlymorning light —a linen sheet soaked with sweat.Chemtrails overhead, silky seaweed below.Sadistic figures crossing the creaking bridge,cursingan embodiment of monogamy — of loyalty.A supercut of innocence within one frame.Did you see in between the valley of her wing?A streak of mud, of

Read More »
Scroll to Top