Steve Brammell
Steve Brammell's short fiction and non-fiction have appeared in Alabama Magazine, Birmingham Magazine, RavensPerch, Northwest Indiana Literary Journal, White Wall Review, The Tiny Seed Literary Journal, The Write Launch, Flying Island Journal, Cathexis Northwest Press, Toho Journal and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. Finishing Line Press recently published his book of short stories, Red Mountain Cut. He is a graduate of Wabash College and a member of the Indiana Writers Center, and has also enjoyed a parallel career in the restaurant and wine business for the past 25 years. He lives in Indianapolis.
“Eisenhower’s Highway, 1960,” “Pain,” and “Upon Finding the Birth Quilt My Great Grandma Made for Me in My Mothers Attic”
It changes names as it rushes east
– Toll Road, Turnpike, Thruway –
supernatural, this ribbon of concrete,
where our brand new Buick,
swept back with its fins,
can fly, leaving the flat lands behind.
– Toll Road, Turnpike, Thruway –
supernatural, this ribbon of concrete,
where our brand new Buick,
swept back with its fins,
can fly, leaving the flat lands behind.
Poetry
Issue 70, February 2023
Issues Archive
“Olive,” “Dishwasher” and “Orange”
Who was the first to try
an olive ripe from the tree,
the paltry flesh over stony seed
so bitter it must be poison?
Who learned the magic
to make it succulent?
an olive ripe from the tree,
the paltry flesh over stony seed
so bitter it must be poison?
Who learned the magic
to make it succulent?
Poetry
Issue 54, October 2021
Issues Archive
“Road” and “Chimney Swifts at Dusk”
Once we followed the others on all fours,
contributing trails through grass and brush
to favorite trees and watering holes
before our spines thrust us up on two feet…
contributing trails through grass and brush
to favorite trees and watering holes
before our spines thrust us up on two feet…
Poetry
Issue 32, December 2019
Issues Archive
“Canada Geese,” “Boat Hull, Moving Party in a Small Town” and “Crows”
Feet splayed, leather between toes,
black claws meant for pedestrian tasks,
you meet me with your mate in the office parking lot.
Though there’s something regal in your head held high,
I’ve seen you eating grass on suburban lawns,
your hungry bill opening and closing as I approach,
greeting me like you were my pet.
black claws meant for pedestrian tasks,
you meet me with your mate in the office parking lot.
Though there’s something regal in your head held high,
I’ve seen you eating grass on suburban lawns,
your hungry bill opening and closing as I approach,
greeting me like you were my pet.
Poetry
Issue 25, May 2019
Issues Archive
Steve Brammell
Steve Brammell's short fiction and non-fiction have appeared in Alabama Magazine, Birmingham Magazine, RavensPerch, Northwest Indiana Literary Journal, White Wall Review, The Tiny Seed Literary Journal, The Write Launch, Flying Island Journal, Cathexis Northwest Press, Toho Journal and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. Finishing Line Press recently published his book of short stories, Red Mountain Cut. He is a graduate of Wabash College and a member of the Indiana Writers Center, and has also enjoyed a parallel career in the restaurant and wine business for the past 25 years. He lives in Indianapolis.
“Eisenhower’s Highway, 1960,” “Pain,” and “Upon Finding the Birth Quilt My Great Grandma Made for Me in My Mothers Attic”
It changes names as it rushes east
– Toll Road, Turnpike, Thruway –
supernatural, this ribbon of concrete,
where our brand new Buick,
swept back with its fins,
can fly, leaving the flat lands behind.
– Toll Road, Turnpike, Thruway –
supernatural, this ribbon of concrete,
where our brand new Buick,
swept back with its fins,
can fly, leaving the flat lands behind.
Poetry
Issue 70, February 2023
Issues Archive
“Olive,” “Dishwasher” and “Orange”
Who was the first to try
an olive ripe from the tree,
the paltry flesh over stony seed
so bitter it must be poison?
Who learned the magic
to make it succulent?
an olive ripe from the tree,
the paltry flesh over stony seed
so bitter it must be poison?
Who learned the magic
to make it succulent?
Poetry
Issue 54, October 2021
Issues Archive
“Road” and “Chimney Swifts at Dusk”
Once we followed the others on all fours,
contributing trails through grass and brush
to favorite trees and watering holes
before our spines thrust us up on two feet…
contributing trails through grass and brush
to favorite trees and watering holes
before our spines thrust us up on two feet…
Poetry
Issue 32, December 2019
Issues Archive
“Canada Geese,” “Boat Hull, Moving Party in a Small Town” and “Crows”
Feet splayed, leather between toes,
black claws meant for pedestrian tasks,
you meet me with your mate in the office parking lot.
Though there’s something regal in your head held high,
I’ve seen you eating grass on suburban lawns,
your hungry bill opening and closing as I approach,
greeting me like you were my pet.
black claws meant for pedestrian tasks,
you meet me with your mate in the office parking lot.
Though there’s something regal in your head held high,
I’ve seen you eating grass on suburban lawns,
your hungry bill opening and closing as I approach,
greeting me like you were my pet.
Poetry
Issue 25, May 2019
Issues Archive