By: A Ramachandran In 1941, Isaac Asimov, widely regarded as one of the top two science fiction writers of his time, wrote a short story titled ‘Nightfall.’ The story itself was inspired by a poem written by Ralph Waldo…
By: Ian C Smith My serendipitous introduction to Yeats’ early poem, He Wishes for The Cloths of Heaven, came about when I lifted an antimacassar on my armchair, exposing a hidden letter. A nephew, my house-sitter during recent travels then,…
By Chinese Poet Hongri YuanTranslated by Yuanbing zhang Each Rock is A Potala Palace The sunshine is mellow wine and there are golden palaces inside the sun. Where a giant is its master, he told me that I was his…
By: Shawn Berman OUR FAVORITE HALLOWEEN MOVIE IS THE ONE WHERE CASPER AND WENDY BECOME BEST FRIENDS BECAUSE NOBODY DIES AND THEY ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER sitting in our underwear carving pumpkins on the floor you turn the volume…
By: Alan Berger Once in a world of sorrowThrice in a world of painWhere memories I never hadWhere all laid to blameAt the age I am right nowReady for the gateI still don’t know how or whyI received a smile…
By: Shannen Zitz KINTSUGI i have mended hundreds ofbroken things.i never questioned the necessity of it,just knew, this is probably howit would always be.never knew where the crackswere coming from,only that they were there. and i filled them.with whatever i…
By: Paweł Markiewicz I am standing before a cute mirror, therethrough looking, and I see there Prometheus, his torches with fires, a weird-like ash, a poetical comet as well as the words >youthhood of studies< in a golden frame. I…
By W. K. Rathburg Command, this is Palma Fesco. Of Search and Rescue? The same. I find myself in a pickle. I need help. What do you mean? I’m stuck under a ventilation shaft. What? It collapsed. In the Veldor Sector. …
By: Aanika Eragam I didn’t notice she was missing till the world began withering,weeping willows sweeping banyan seeds down rabbit holes,coyotes howling for mercy as dandelion feathers chokedtheir newborns’ throats. I sat on a swing in an empty playgroundlistening for…
By: Zach Murphy There it was. It was that faint tune. The tune of a song playing on a jukebox from the back room in a dingy bar within the ghost town of a dream. The mysterious sound meandered through…