By: David Francis The Limits of Metaphor People get off the busthat’s lit up like an ocean linerin front of the neon burglar-barredfood store-tattoo-modeling studioand they disperse in all directionsthey might be going to apartmentsor places of businessopen on a…

By: JW Burns Alan sat in a puddle.             “…doesn’t pay enough. Twice in three months I’ve had to call my father just to get by—you know how I hate that—so I’m seriously looking.” Sharon’s voice jumped from a thick…

By Mohammad JashimUddin Rakibul Hassan is a promising poet of 1990s. He has published more than twenty books of poetry and has written eight novels including Agnika Andhar, a novel that boldly exposed the dark side of universities, and a…

By: James Aitchison There is a patternto which all life adheres.Earthly binds define us, incorrectly,for destiny wills otherwise.Your life is a strand on my loom.Embedded in your pure and sinner selfare qualities and meritsinherited from past existences.Set free the beauty…

By: Mahathi TATTERED DIARYA knot after a knot, one more and more!Before he felt the ease of looseningumbilical cord, he saw through opened doora waiting world of tangled mortal strings. He simpered at the lady suckling milkand beamed a knowing…

By: Kelvin J. Shachile I To proceed towards the west, the escarpments looking like the end where the sky meets the earth. The silence of a world you’d guess Jesus visits everyday but sinners still roam around free like prisons…

By: Rakibul HassanTranslated by: Mohammad Jashim Uddin Thinking to return—My Western windIntoxicated kissWildly uncontrollable youthWill return with everythingMy sunshine hasn’t become mineSeeing frightened of my hellish fireAngel of paradise returns to ParadiseMy extreme formidable reddish extended hood of surgesUrban-lady is…

By: Tom Ball No one thought much about Tom in his youth. He was an ordinary boy. But when he grew up, he changed into a man who had ideas for the future. For example, he said, “Women should rule…

By Anna Cates Ignatius Yeats had just settled down for afternoon tea when a knock sounded at the door.  He jumped as if a ghost had spooked him.  That someone would occasion upon him was frightening.  Nobody ever visited him. …

By: Jon Carter don’t think how long mustthe soul remainunfed- the leafless treesare pale yellow miragesof themselvesof the springstoic atop frosted hills… …but on the bus when I close myeyes I make themgo away-power? no, only perception. opening my eyes…