By: Stephen Faulkner Since it has gained its small share of notoriety over the past few months it has been labeled a “profession” in a sneering sort of manner. One does not go into such a discipline lightly, seeking…
By: Elizabeth V.Koshy An excavator pounds the rock,earth moving machines claw outboulders to make boulder-hills,from the first light to evening twilight. Working to the dictates of the concrete mixeryellow-helmeted automatons, apparitions in grey,collect the spewed out concrete in wheelbarrowsand empty…
By: Alan Berger Do you rememberWhat day we met?What time it was?That my shirt was redYou laughedAt everythingThat I said What we drankAnd how manyThe waiter’s name too? I know you don’tBut I do I don’t rememberThe promises to you…
By: Radomir Vojtech Luza American Original I was born out of Hitler’s bloody diseaseStalin’s scarred and shredded knees Raised in the Deep SouthWhere African AmericansHang from treesLike gray moss Schooled in the finest Catholic institutionsOf higher learning where hypocrisyWas the…
By: April Mae M. Berza Percy Lapid is the Phoenix Rising from the Ashes We can because we believeWe believe because we canStill, we rise above the challenges. We dream it until we make it a realityWe make it a…
By: April Mae M. Berza Dale As I Dream of the Stars at Night I’ve seen you before in one of my dreams,gratitude embraced you and the universe of versesconspired to make you a reality, you smiledat me, and I…
By: Christopher Collingwood The Feeling Returned The feeling returnedwith the season –the strand of yoursweater, caught beneaththe wing of a bird, unravellinga forgotten desire, a momentreturned by the flock,instinct carried beyondour misgivings. Knowing nature –I saw the uneasinessin their wild…
By: Chase Reed A tree on a hillSits tall and strong.But the tree doesn’t feelThis is where it belongs. One gust of windBends the tree east and west.North and south once again,It sways more than the rest. “My roots cannot…
By: E. Martin Pedersen The Toxic Wha That guy, that guy, that slapped mein high school, I’ll neverforgive him, that guy’s toxicI won’t sit with him at the50th class reunion, we werein P.E. playing soccer for thefirst time — it…
By: Charlie Dickinson Clamping cellphone to his fleshy ear, he glowered at the backyard, waiting on the rings. “911, do you need police, fire or ambulance?” “What can you send? Hurry, I gotta dead body here.” “Okay,…