By: Linda M. Crate i’ve seen the dragons they come out at night when everyone is sleeping drift through the clouds with their eyes large as the moon, and they watch me underneath an audience of stars but they never…
By: Adreyo Sen When she was five, she was a brave little boy, addicted to Gi Joe, who dreamt of earning his father’s gratitude by saving him from terrorists. She was in love with her pretty English teacher. When…
By: Donald Buhl-Brown I invited her over tonight, to hang out I said. The trash is overflowing in my bins, my clothes are littered across my floor. More dirty than clean, the same for the clothes on my body. I shouldn’t…
A man walked by and through a dusty window I saw him. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. The woman whispered to each other. “Look at him.” “I know, he’s so put together right?” “What I’d do for a…
The Government of Nepal and the Gadhimai Temple have been strongly criticized for failing to stop the sacrifice of tens of thousands of animals at this year’s festival, despite a legal and moral obligation to act. Animal protection groups Humane…
By Ruth Towne 1. I’m white-knuckled, twisted away from the window, eyes closed, lips tight, tighter at take-off. I’m terminally internally talking to myself—either up or down if we happen to be flying or that other f-word—saying, We’re not falling…
By: Adreyo Sen When I woke up in the morning, You were gone. I looked for You everywhere. I went to the temple, but You were not there. I went to the mosque, but they said You were long gone. I…
By: Reese Scott when its dark after turning on all the lights on opening up all the blinds and there is no rain snow or clouds just black and movies loose their pictures music loose their sound and books have…
By: Tom Sheehan Friends found Jamesie by dark tracks, between home and the last-pint draught of wine from a pseudo-canteen soldered firmly to his hip, the left, where stray shot from fanatic Hun bore in. Beside the silver rail they…
By: Mitch Green I wasn’t the focus, the focal diction – Fiction dead on ambition. Wishing, superstition – salivating, Procreating the filth from my heart. Fresh starts are only mental manipulation, Lonely relations held in handless arms. Stoic seasons pass fast…