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To be a man
don’t sob at the sight of your grandfather’s ashes stored in a mausoleum for war veterans and husks of grandfathers that once loved but have since formed their hands into oysters.
Ghazal for the Cast Iron
Because I haven’t taken the bristle pad’s sudsy scraping grace to scour this pan as I do all others, erasing the grease
Brett Stout
The art that I’m submitting has the basic overall theme of “creative destruction.” I’ve taken my own photographs that I mainly take while walking the streets of my town, while on vacation, or riding my bicycle late at night.
52 Pick-Up
Dad always said I didn’t have to pay him back for everything, but I knew that was a huge lie, the way that beautiful people wearing long wool coats say, “Sorry, no cash,” when I asked them if they want to see a card trick.
Kreative Kwame
I work in mixed media, printmaking. This usually involves several of these: acrylic paint, ink, marker pen or color pencil, paper weaving, collage and printmaking and performance.
Lior Locher
I work in mixed media, printmaking. This usually involves several of these: acrylic paint, ink, marker pen or color pencil, paper weaving, collage and printmaking and performance.
Letter from the Editor
When Andy Plattner asked me to join the editorial team of The Headlight Review in the spring of last year, I brought along my history of editing literary magazines in the Midwest. Although I was prepared to find the South different from the Rust Belt, it didn’t occur to me that even the literary magazines here might be just a little bit different.
A Love Note
Our arrangement was simple enough. I was with Gloria the first and third weekends of the month; Ollie and Gloria were together the second and fourth weekends. Weeknights were infrequent and scheduled ad hoc.
Madeline O’Neill
In my work, I strive to highlight the hardships many minorities endure at the hands of American society and the modern world.
Tyrone Mckie
Drawing pencils capture fleeting ideas from my inner world and the world at large. These then transform into surreal digital paintings brought to life in Photoshop.
Self Portrait as a Blushing Petal, Nestled into the Melt
My cousin told me he found / Jesus, which was the easy part / since he couldn’t find his way / out of Brooklyn. Then this morning / it was so quiet you could hear / a cat walking. By noon the wind / kicked in making the trees swing / like Count Basie and the traffic / sounded like his horn section.
Song for Cassiopea
Leaving polyp form, you are medusa, / telltale bell and arms but no platonic ideal, / moons backlit in aquaria.
Of the Macho
A no ignition Johnny Blaze. / Now he places a white plastic lawn chair / in his shower. Safer, if you sit.
Itemized Checks
There’s a coyote’s skull at Hurricane Creek / there’s a new table in your section / your life, sectioned
Elegy as a Writing Instructor in State Prison
I want to know the god these men know, / pounded to life on the chapel piano.
Mardi Gras
“Mardi Gras… Isn’t that the most euphonious appellation?” I closed my eyes and pronounced each syllable slowly, showing off my English and French skill to my brother, Kevin.