By: Gaither Stewart “In order to understand the world, one must turn away from it on occasion.” (Albert Camus) Via Nazionale. The taxi battles its way up the steep avenue in the precarious right lane reserved for public vehicles. Blinding…
By: JP Miller From the kitchen door of the stone house, one could see as far as the Red Hook ferry dock on St. Thomas. Down below the calm water and just off the beach on Cruz bay was a…
By: J.L. Amos Creamy, purple-flowered porcelain. Circular. A tulled ballerina in toe shoes spins to brass polyphonics, mindless with a strawberry sneer. Bump it off the dresser with a searching elbow, rage smash it on the wall, finger push it….
By: Khemendra Kamal Kumar Oh, what queer sight my eyes to see, Two lovely doves, springing in glee, In gusty South Easterly, they grew with me, Gliding in the fair skies, far from thee. In unison, swaying heads right to…
By: Mitch Green Sinners, saints – bone edged proficient damsels Rebirthed reunions relishing fortified foundations of burial worship. To sink, we embalm our bones, Hope – it’s not our home, Nostalgic principles of dreamscapes and saloons, dividing oceans, Monsoons, grave lagoons….
By: Mitch Green I took her breath into my lungs – all of it. Intoxication never hit so hard; that surreal spin submersing beneath my humanity with enough influence to drive me off the ledge from this prodigal possession. It…
By: Charles X. Madruga The filtered morning light shone quietly bright, and I, coasting my way through an in-between place – being faintly awake and the silence of sleeping in an evanescent dream. Drifting away through my unacquainted state, it was a murmur, it was…
By: Charles X. Madruga Drifting through dreams on her bed she whispers a scene through my head and I swear I should’ve died right then when she said – something in my ear, to be honest I didn’t hear a single…
By: Reese Scott He was born in a hotel. But of course he didn’t know it was a hotel. He didn’t know what a hotel was. He didn’t know what a room or a roof was. It’s difficult to create…
By: Debleena Majumdar He stood alone, At the street corner Selling his wares, Masks of black and grey. They came to buy, Their own masks of pain. Masks that hid what, They could not say. Locked behind Glasspanes of power,…