By: Paweł Markiewicz I am a mournful-sublime sparkgentle such elysian seraphic wingsa glimmer that flies above the delicate homelandI the twinkling come from balmy Luther’s starsan orb which is enchanting-comfortable the paradise full glitter persists not far from methe lights…
By: Natalie Blake The first time the fox appeared, I’d been twenty-three and hiking with my father. My boots were two sizes too small and pinched at the ankle, so I’d rested against a pine tree to drink. The lid…
By: Chen Ruizhe Standing on the yellow earth and looking at the traces of ancestorsThink back to the cultivator who was and is nowIf there’s a big movie by one personAlmost call it a rich farmer Read the books and…
By: Ramzi Albert Rihani Unscathed When the wind blows in directions, North and SouthAnd the earth vibrates like echoes in a chorus When belief becomes the envy of the skepticAnd doubt takes center stage on the altar of piety When…
By: Jim Bates A stuffed animal?No not to the young boyMore than a Christmas giftShe was soft oh so softFluffy and whiteCuddly secureHe called her Snowflake. Sick in the hospitalBright lights glaringMonitors beepingShe kept him companyThankfullyUnrelentingly lonelinessDeepest darkest nightLong hours…
By: Ron Wetherington His skull rests on my desk with others from his family of fossils.The Old Man of La Chapelle-aux-Saints, ill-fated,misinterpreted among the Neanderthals. Cruelly symbolic, still:a dim-witted approximation of humanness, they say,too primitive for language, they say,unprepared for…
By: Tom Ball I Other than the fact that Martina, was so sexy, I, Edgar, saw a sparkling intelligence. And she said, “I am regarded as one of the top 10 intelligences in the World. I want to clone…
By Linda S. Gunther It was 4:00 p.m. on Thursday afternoon when Gavin Harbison applied the shaving cream to his face and neck. He picked up his razor, preparing himself mentally for his job as waiter on the night shift…
By: Debabrata Mohanty Spring bids us adieuwishing all under warm care—sunshowers sans clouds
By Karen Lee Stradford You’re all plugged in,amplified.Long neck,flat, pear-shapedwonder. I awaitthe piercing soundof your strings. I am happy.You move meto a thunderousapplausewhenever you playThe Blues.