by Jensen Beach | Dec 6, 2019 | Poetry
a quiet street its mouth overflowing with leaves no longer summer soft attempts to speak it tells me about the man who was murdered for love and insurance money just five houses down the house has already been resold and the new owners hung up Christmas lights the...
by Jensen Beach | May 25, 2019 | Poetry
I’m sixteen and don’t scrape the frost from my windows before barreling through gray- hazed cornfields down the highway to school while the winter sun sticks its cold bright head over the horizon. This is the winter I learn to create slow motion in real time by...
by Jensen Beach | May 20, 2019 | Fiction
Bill Bradney leaned on his elbow to shift his position on the comfy couch. His body felt heavy. He was on the proverbial psychiatrist’s couch, and it lived up to all his expectations. His breath came out in short, choppy spurts — all in an effort to ease his...
by Jensen Beach | May 7, 2019 | Poetry
Do you ever wonder what your shoelaces were thinking while you were out walking – and they come back carrying burrs and whirligigs and looped up in ways you never thought possible? Is it a fun sort of chaos they impose, that takes an hour to unravel with...
by Jensen Beach | May 1, 2019 | Fiction
Back in Calhoun, my brother Corey’s wife ran out on him. He hadn’t seen her for weeks. What this meant for me was the death of a fantasy where I’d spend Christmas with my own family in St. Louis, sitting around eating cocktail shrimp in slippers, new...
