By: Kate LaDew after reading and not understanding a word I hand the poem back, nodding, yes, yes, exactlyand it seems enoughas it has always been enough for meanother human voice saying yes, yes, that’s it exactly ### you talk…
By Copper Rose See Ellen get up in the morning and go to the kitchen to make coffee? She is complaining that no one loves her. At least not in the way she would like to be loved. See her…
By: Ruth Z Deming She couldn’t quite remember but thought this was her sixth day without food and water. Lydia was the picture of passivity, a leaf blown hither and thither down the street. A nurse mopped her cracked lips…
By Russ Bickerstaff It was a simple wooden box that had been painted black. That’s what he thought anyway. Wood. The thing was a one by one inch square box. Would’ve resembled a block of wood had it not been…
By: Jim Bates A crowd of humanity surged through the concourse like a tidal river rushing down a coastal inlet. At gate 23 in the waiting area for flight 175 people settled themselves into the seats, leaving as much space…
By: Yearn Hong Choi My beloved auntie slipped out of my life since I made a call last timefrom America to Korea many years ago.When I tried to get in touch with her after a long while,I found she passed…
By Yearn Hong Choi My first Christmas in Bloomington, Indiana in 1968 was most unforgettable. Professor William J. Siffin, who created the Scholars of Comparative Administration Group (CAG) in the 1960s, invited me to his home on Christmas Eve. A…
By: Sterling Warner “Turn over, Jack.” “What?” “You’re snoring again!” “I wasn’t!” “You were—and I really need to get some rest before tomorrow.” Dutifully, Jack rolled over on his left side, looked out the doorway, but couldn’t fall back asleep….
By Marco Etheridge For Malcolm John Rebennack, Jr And Dickran Gobalian ### I understand how you might know I was in town. What I’m curious about is how you knew which hotel I was staying at. You may be a…
By: Phoebe Marrall These I saw: small onions laidwith their root discs punctuatingthe longitude poles. Polar caps,yes, navels to the earth wheretheir buried unions still hold. That space along the stalls,unpeopled on this damp morning,stops me (for it insists), with…