From the Whistler


Wasps - Scott Provence

Marshland Dusk - John Philip Johnson

Gerwin - Calvin White

Near Harmony - John Abbott

The Wedding Room - Shanan Ballam

Hello - Maria Cinanni

November - Chip Corwin


Angle Side Angle - Mary Lynn Reed

There Is Always More Work to be Done - Dave Barrett

The Relief Printer - Jessica Rae Hahn


The Nine Scoundrels by Deanna Reiter

Elisha's Bones by Don Hoesel

Poetry Reviews

Whistling Shade's Literary Cafe Review


My Meeting with Mengele - Maryla Neuman


Eating Your Words in a Prague Cafe - John-Ivan Palmer

John Dos Passos, a View from Left Field - Hugh Mahoney

Lost Writers of Minnesota: Clifford D. Simak - Joel Van Valin


Shading Dealings - Race-based Literary Journals

Fun Patrol - I Never Promised You a Shit Garden



Maria Cinanni

Avere troppa memoria non fa star bene 
nessuno. Si diventa malinconici.* 
       - Maurizio Maggiani, 
         Il Coraggio del Pettirosso 

As if every hole 
in the roads 
could be filled 
in a second. 

That is when you are driving, 
or walking 
with a silly but human 
expression in your eyes. 

Here is the first hole 
where I drop a few words. 
Over there is another: 
an imaginary one. 

On the shores of a calm 
sea, fishermen are yelling, 
chatting in deep Calabrian dialect. 

It is April. 
By the seafront their boats 
are neatly lined up, 
freshly varnished, 
ready for a new season.

* “Having too many memories isn’t good for anyone.
   You become melancholy.”

Maria Cinanni grew up in Ottawa, Canada and now lives in Umbria, Italy, where she works as an educator. Quasi-hysterical, culturally-insecure Maria writes poetry when she manages to find a pen.