By: Shukburgh Ashby Near-unknown writer, and an undiscovered giant of twentieth century literature A friend told me that Tom Wollaston died last week. He must’ve been in his nineties. I’d like to humbly propose (I haven’t read this theory elsewhere)…
By: Paul Jones The Emancipation of the Mermaid Tattoo The laser took her scale by scaleslowly moving from waist to tail.She had never been meant for him.He had led her out on a limb.He kept her there under his skinan…
By: Caroline Piermattei She heard the chirp, the squeak. Then the black blur scurried past her leg. He climbed the tree then ran, having what looked like fun. Black squirrels, She strained to remember…aggressive, rabid? As a stand alone event,…
By: Harvey Huddleston He’d been there a few times before, the BARC shelter. It stood for Brooklyn Animal, then whatever starts with an R and Center. The R might be for relocation or reassignment or rehabilitation maybe. He never liked…
By: T. Peer D. C. Damen entered his detective section beneath the proclamation, Our day begins when your day ends. Beyond a rather pragmatic occupational dictum the homicides, suicides, and accidents stuffed a macabre party pack with the hostility, futility,…
By: Dora Nicolic nebula The day the sky split open, a swirl of dust, gases, and atoms suffocated the horizon. And the sky, well, she inhaled and took in every ounce of the atoms. She was left to expand, and…
By: Carl Papa Palmer Not the inviting cotton candy snowscene on a holiday greeting cardor sparkling fluffy flakes floatingsoftly in the shaken crystal globe, These wind whipped ice shards blown,thrown, stinging, not sticking, hurled,swirled across bare brown ground likelong white…
By: Amol Narayan Jadhao We have no nerve left to feelThe sofa felt the tiresome limbsAnd the ‘human’ fondled the road to rootsThe covered (mikes) mouths and shielded (cameras) eyesTelecasting the live bare pangs and sheer pains Has-beens of pavements…
By Ellis Shuman They were seated two rows ahead of me on the half-empty plane and without seeing their faces, or knowing anything about them, I could tell that they were totally out of their element. What was it? The…
By Theresa Gaynord The color white usually coversfeatureless walls, but when snowfalls and settles on the bough oftrees, it’s a recipe for awakeningthat is strangely comforting, likea white note, slipped subtly beneatha door, or the creak of a metal door,opening…