By Mark Kodama I. The owner of the decapitated head – his mouth frozen in a silent scream and eyes wide open in sheer terror – had seen its own death in the moment before it happened. If the…
By: David Capps Rose A rose is like a flower:pretty, pretty and round.When terrible thingshappen, and dusk fliesapart, namelessly dark,it will still be around. ### Blip Irregularitywas made regularby regularity. Itregularly regulatesirregularity. Geeseflown into turbinesat night. The headSalome presentsat first…
By Dennis Robleski Sid’s Jeep Gladiator slowly crept into the parking lot and he scanned nervously left and right, looking for her Toyota Prius. Satisfied that it wasn’t there, he parked and exited his car, crouched low and moved along…
By Abhirup Dutta Praveen was known as the Boy Who Missed Beatings. He was a scrawny boy with naturally spiky hair and buck teeth, earning him several other names such as Scarecrow, Porcupine, Squirrel, Bhoot (ghost), Pisachi (ghoul), Cricket Bat…
By: Grant M. Armstrong Solitary confinementYou can fake an orgasmBut I cannot even fake a smileI said I needed a breakBut not one in the leg I haven’t left the houseIn four daysUnder a self-imposed house arrest I take this…
By: Ashley Summerfield There was always something magical about the last day of school before the summer holidays. I am sure you remember the sensation yourself. The bell would ring, and you and your friends would spill out of the…
By: Paweł Markiewicz the liberty is the golden bosoma freedom – a diamond-like leaflet-homean eagle needs also a bit libertyI want to live in the freedom-beauty the freedom – silvern periods dreamy birdsIt is furthermore star from rubiesthere are smaragdine…
By: Itay Eisinger I didn’t knowWe would return to EuropeLike this:With the blissOf burgundy passportsAnd the abyssthe IsraeliPolitical griefHas left usWith.Where Id wasNow Berlin is.Where fascism was —Fascism was also firstTo leave.In Berlin, by a pub’s wallWe saw the anarchistmist…
By: Jordan Almond The wind moved one strand of hairAcross her face at a time.Grains of red sand fly over the earth,Flitting through the hot air.Vast. Ancient.She lay spread over the land eyes to the sky.Heart open.One grain of sand…
By: Bob Kalkreuter She lay on the floor beside the sofa, the old dog, white fur grizzled with yellow, drowsing where the window-heated sunlight spilled warm and familiar. Her breath came in rattles, like she was practicing for death. Maybe…