By: Lilly White See the beaconing concrete walls,The bricks stacked upon each other,Enclosing our lives reduces us to bills,buying,and the politics we inherit. We see them go up,we see them go down. See them go down as the crimson flames…

By Ken Poyner AN EDUCATION Each year we debate what should be the proper age for school children to be taken on a first field trip to see captive pianos in the next town. All of our pianos have been…

By: J.L. Lewis Your Love I don’t want your love,I need your love.Like the flower needs the tendermercy of the bee,like the arid stream needs the early rainsto join the river in their longingfor the sea.I need your love,as a…

By: Bruce Levine Tired of Chasing Rainbows Letting goYet holding fastDreams a realityCovered with dustYesterday’s tomorrowsA golden calfLonging for diversionIn an empty paragraph Farther down the roadThe hyperbole of fateNothing to loseIn the chances we take Holding on to daydreamsIn…

By: Snigdha Agrawal She struck flints somewhere on the Deccan plainInvented ‘ghar ka khaana’ long before there was grainHe came home bragging about hunting wild boarBut honestly, she always wound up doing moreShe tanned hides, stored food, and mapped every…

By: Philip Graubart Rabbi Judith Adler wrapped her damp palm around the gun barrel. She was surprised at how easily the pistol fit in her hand, somehow accommodating her exact lines and fissures, as if the deadly thing had been…

By: Jim Bates Bright full moon settingShining through snow covered pinesLighting thoughts of joy. Cold blue winter skySun reflects off icy snowMagic light dancing. Cold north wind blowingPine tree’s thick branches bendingBirds huddle for warmth. Frozen winter dayIce houses dotting…

By: Bill Gruber Before it downsized to Twitter, blogofdeath.com was the go-to place to find obituaries for (their words) “famous, infamous and interesting unknowns,” which was where I first read about the life and times of the late Norbert Arnold…

By: Dianne Reeves Angel John Biscello’s No One Dreams in Color is one of those rare novels that feels less like a book you read than a dreamscape you wander through. From its opening pages, it casts a quiet, hypnotic spell —…

By: Samo Kreutz outside the cloud rehearsesa languageolder than asphalt whispers the sighs of housesand the breaths of streetcars reminding methat absence is only a breeze I carry in my ears river patienceflows with the river and itspolished stonessoftened into…