I. May 30th, 2010. Winston-Salem, North Carolina. In which I insist upon the veracity of the enclosed. The characters in the following narrative were once really alive, even the kangaroo. What is […]
S&R Fiction: "The Leak" by Chuck Kramer
He knocked briskly on the door, hoping it conveyed his irritation. That damn leak was making a mess in his condo and he wanted it fixed. He knew he shouldn’t get so […]
S&R Fiction: "Magic," by Carol Smallwood
Mark was going out the door with his baseball mitt when she asked, “How’d you like to see The Magic Spot? You know, the place that’s advertised on that big billboard with […]
S&R Fiction: "Professio," by Fred Paola
His anger was everywhere, fed by a spring, deep and paradoxically hot. Avvocato Tapinella had been for years somewhat of a joke in the Calabrian town of Nocera Terinese, known as the […]
S&R Nonfiction: "Open Letter to Fidel Castro," by Jessica Dur
Dear Mr. Castro, I know you have little tolerance for the big bad neighbor to the north that has for years antagonized your slender island jewel. So let me admit right up […]
S&R Fiction: "Time For All Days" by Pat Weiler
There were almost as many opinions about David Morgan as there were people in Richfield. Not enough to fix some median that would reveal how average he actually was, yet enough to […]
S&R Poetry: "Visible Storage," by Peter Grieco
Visible Storage – in the basement of the Rietberg Museum, Zürich Sinuous bodies joining hands in Indian sandstone ankle linked across a ledge— Peruvian puma beside West Mexican fetishes vermillion delicate bone masks […]
S&R Poetry: Three poems by Don Raymond, Jr.
About The Typeface The words are set in ink on the pulped innards of trees. The idea for words comes first from Sumeria as wedges in wet clay: tales of what came […]
S&R Fiction: "So This is Love" by Mark Sumioka
I took a moment to peer out the hotel window, opening it an inch so that we could hear the turbulent rain. There were no people. The area was like an evacuation. […]
S&R Fiction: "Wanderlust" by P. Garrett Weiler
Vern Harmon’s pipe had been carved from blood-red soapstone by a Missouri River Mandan. To Beth it was a menacing totem. When spring squabbled with winter on the Cumberland Plateau she’d wait […]
Progressive Culture | Scholars & Rogues 