by W.A. Smith They are sitting at the table: Grace, the quiet, graceful mother; Ellen, the sister from another planet; Emerson, the Daddy Emeritus; and Charley. Supper is roast beef and mashed potatoes with gravy…and lima beans. There is no room in...
by Atalaya She was no beauty. A scraggly, ungainly creature with strange bluish eyes, Griselda lived in uncomfortable and jealous promiscuity with a woman; herself dark, smart and selfish who occasionally and carelessly invited a man into their home. She called him...
by W.A. Smith Emerson Johnson joined up soon after FDR finished his Day of Infamy declaration to Congress. Emerson was twenty-five, putting the final touches on his internship. He and Grace had not yet celebrated their first anniversary when he left. But Grace said...
by Ryan Sparks It’s a crisp Seattle morning outside, but I am warm inside The Clover, a velvet-draped coffeehouse on Grand Street. John Mayer’s cumbersome voice trickles out of the ceiling speakers, battling with the milk steamer for auditory dominance of...
by Ryan Sparks Franklin Street Noise is proud to present its first interview. Poet Leonard Kress took the time to talk with me about his latest publication, Orphics, the importance of classical knowledge, transcending the status quo in contemporary American poetry,...
