By: Paweł Markiewicz the enticing aspiration is sucha golden Apollonian sunshinemy muse-like tune of a bosomas the dainty cherubic dreamletor it is a tender ringthat shines atthe magnanimous chevalierand it is an embellishmentof the metaphysics the dazzling wishfulness is able…
By: Sandeep Kumar Mishra Books are in restless wintry mood,Their voices seem urgent,What the books whisperwe prefer not to mention in social circlesYet they know more,Have been where we can’t goin the clothes we wear They are unsettled, we are…
By: James Aitchison A poem is a collection of wordsthat don’t belong anywhere else. But don’t let the writing show, they say.Hide the scaffold of structure. Break forms!Have I made an exciting mistake? Some words are scabs to be picked…
By Chris Keyser There was no time for basking in it. Perks Cafe couldn’t endure Ken Stagman for long before oscillating into hysteria. And he knew it. They knew it too. A single iphone camera’s shutter flash would dash the…
By: Joseph Hope Epistle for the dead and Lost 1How dead is dead?When fishing for the impossible, How much hope is enough? How things die?They begin from Genesis, From the swinging cradle 2The morale from the long walkThrough this unvegetated…
By Sandra Ding During most daily commutes, one only sees strangers and doesn’t look closely. On an early evening in October, while the city dwelled in a soft, yellow haze, amid the bustle of the streets filled with the shuttling…
By: E.R. LeVar An old bonnet of hers still rests on a hook on the wall, long blue ribbons trailing down to the floor. A well-worn shawl drapes over the back of the chair, holes in the knitting letting the…
By Kristen Henderson Carlos discovered an open box of D-con rat poison under a pile of shoes in the back of his grandmother’s closet. He’d been called home from ‘Nam after his grandmother was found dead, rigid, straight as…
By: Alan Berger What stories to chooseWhich ones to tellThey choose youAnd tell you what to sellI’d rather be a year too earlyThen a second too lateRather not be out with someoneThat I just can’t takeRather stay home and masturbateAnd…
By: Francine Witte “So, let’s review,” says Man 1 “Right,” says Man 2, “we kill her at noon.” They lean over the high lip of the bridge rail. Straight down to the blue of the stream. “Not kill,” says Man…