By: Kristian Keefer Dear Nan, There are things I wish I had said while you were still here. I think about that more now than I used to. You weren’t the kind of grandmother people usually picture. You didn’t bake…

By: Paul Bavister Love Poem I think back through the spiny mammalsscoffing yolk from dinosaur eggsto leggy fish skittering at the swamp’s edgethen even further back to spinning jellyfishand single cells in electric soupwhen the earth was still too hot…

By: James Aitchison In life, the only reality —the true reality —is Eternity.It is infinite andimmutable.No human hand hasshaped it.No human handcan control it.Craft your lifenot for the ephemeral,but for the eternal.In doing so,the ferocity withinevery man’s heartcan be woven…

Review of Scenes from the Magic Mountain: Five Seasons in the Mussoorie Hills and Beyond, published by Speaking Tiger Books By Mitali Chakravarty Ruskin Bond’s Scenes from the Magic Mountain: Five Seasons in the Mussoorie Hills and Beyond has writings…

By: Don Tassone      I’d been walking for about a mile on the Binghamton Trail alongside the Chenango River when I came to a bench and decided to rest for a moment.      A middle-aged man, older than me, was…

By: Aritra Basak The first time I learned about random walks, I dismissed the concept as an academic toy. Left or right, heads or tails—it felt like a game for people with nothing better to do than count coin tosses….

By: Eugen Oniscu From childhood to his thirtieth year, Robert Ciubotaru had lived only for brawls, thefts, and scandals. As a minor he had even spent a few years in a reformatory school. If anyone had told him life could…

By: Bruce Mundhenke The Seven Stars The seven stars are old.Many eyes have gazed at them in the night,their pattern constant,beacons of light.Almost eternal,but in time,only the Old One will remain.All else will pass,except for what He chooses to retain….

By: Camela B. Gabia “A Message to Max” In my hectic busy day,I always hear your laughter far away.Each work I do, each step I take,I can feel the ache of the time we forsake.The hours seem so long, yet…

By: Harrison Cashmere The Market of Closed Eyes I woke and went straight to the market,Drunk with drowsiness, intoxicated by fatigue.I drifted here and there, sleepilySearching for humanity among the stalls.My eyes were closing; sunbeams foughtTo open them for a…