-
Three Poems by Richard Jordan
Herring Run No one will convince me the sky was ever cloudy over South River those late April afternoons when Grandpa and I went to the stone bridge to witness herring battle swift currents, the run so dense I imagined I could walk upstream on a trail of blue-black backs. Grandpa would hold my legs as I… Continue reading
-
Three Poems by Nancy Cherry
A Bottle of Summer There were summers bright with sunlight glancing off chrome truck bumpers where we’d beg a dime for a cold Fanta Orange, or a Coke in green glass.Already rusty on the rim, the cold box held the bottles in a web of metal, and a crate forthe returns, and we returned them,… Continue reading
-
Panda Mitt
by Michael Kozart “Everything’s sold out,” says the sales rep at Sports Bazaar.” She wears a mask with a clear plastic shield like a windshield. “But we’ll order direct from the factory. Neoprene for grip, rainbow hues for fun.” I feel for her, making the sale’s pitch while I sit curbside in air-conditioned comfort. It’s… Continue reading
-
A Brief Thank You and Note About Our Publication Schedule
by Jeffrey Heath When we first launched January House Literary Journal, we weren’t sure what kind of response we would receive. We set a realistic goal of publishing our first full issue in the Fall of 2025, expecting slow growth. I’m pleased to announce that the response from the literary community has far exceeded our… Continue reading
-
Three Poems by Carla Sarett
Unsent Postcard I own too many heirloom timepieces like the broken grandfather clock, it never strikes the hour properly, it lags a minute then longer so by mid- summer 9 a.m. it might be any hour. It chimes the same for hours gained or lost. I can never grasp Daylight Savings, the flying back, the… Continue reading
-
Sundowning
by Nathaniel Krenkel The green plate rests in my lap. “Imagine how much this would cost in a restaurant.” Under different circumstances, I’d say something rude—the snarky son—but for now, I stay silent and force another bite of the walnut and raspberry buckwheat pancake. “Susie, you’re boy is here,” he says. My mother’s head remains… Continue reading
-
To Clean
by Amelia Elaine Pearce Standing by the window as light beams in, it’s clean. The bed made, soft, inviting, No need for tiptoeing around on a clean floor. Show up. Rummage through my drawers, grab and yank sweet silk and rip and fling every folded shirt, and pull drawers from safe cupboards and haul candles… Continue reading
-
Photography by Marc Frazier
Marc Frazier has published in over a hundred forty journals. A recipient of an Illinois Arts Council Award for poetry, he has also been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and two “Best of the Nets.” His four books are available online. His latest poetry book If It Comes To That recently won Silver in the… Continue reading
-
Mourning Before Death
by Diana Raab we sit by the riverand like waterthat hasn’t moved in decadesmy eyes become filled with tears. at ninety-two, my mother is dying reclined in someone else’s brown vinyl chair, drooping orchids on windowsill.television blaring nonsensical dialogue which she no longer hears, black and white cat on coralbed cover, the same color of her horsewhich I made… Continue reading
-
Firing Sonny Lane
by Mark Connelly Everybody hates Sonny Lane now. The pile-on was predictable from the Joe Rogan interviews to the SNL skits. He wasn’t in R Kelly or Weinstein territory but as cancelled as can be. Not facing jail but enduring the St. Helena of Betty Ford and Dr. Drew mea culpas. He’d always been a… Continue reading
January House Literary Journal 