By James Aitchison President Donald Trump announced America’s intention to take over Greenland. He quoted strategic necessity. But what does Denmark, the colonial power which owns Greenland, think? And what do native Greenlanders, mostly Inuit people, think about this? Would…
By: James Aitchison Death’s delicate silence,as soft as butterflieson clouds, rewards us all.We are all eternal.Who has time for fear?In the quiet mind,it does not exist.No man is bound to this earth.Shed the past and your soulwill dance to a…
By: Paweł Markiewicz Hydranoblest daydreamarray of wingthe swamp remains enchantedwhen the homeplace is ablazeand I like the marshes veryI wish Apollo’s grace lingered so nicelydelectation Dionysusgallant dreameryparagon of neststhe bog abode becharmedwhen celestial habitat began sparklingand I cherish the bogs…
By James Aitchison Germany between the wars. The Weimar Republic replaced the old monarchy. In the golden 1920s, Berlin became a glittering world city, a melting pot of culture and counterculture, of science, philosophy, art, design, architecture, music, film and,…
By: Paul Dickey What to Make of a Night? As I walked to your house,I tried not to get old.I concentrated on whatI was supposed to:the wine, the walk,what I would say to youwhen you greet meat the door and…
By: Daniel Acosta, Jr. Preface After graduating from the University of Texas with a degree in pharmacy during the height of the Vietnam War, I was able to get a draft deferment to attend graduate school at the University of…
By Michael Lee Johnson Trail of Tears in the Snow Footprints in the snow, fresh.Will your divorce lawyers talkto Jesus this night—set me chain-free.Set you on your traveling ways.Searching, we’ll both be curiously searching.Even hell has its standards burn with…
By: C.A. Broadribb Theresa surveyed her herd of 600 cattle as she sat on top of a hill, sipping on a glass of wine. Her favourite red-and-white Hereford, Dot, wandered up to nuzzle her hand. “Hello, darling,” she said, stroking…
By: Lahari Mahalanabish The seamen swing,in fatigued, fevered relish of the cradling in infancy,couched in their threadbare hammocks,the ship plunges into the reshaping trough of wavesspooned towards the sandy dash with a green rumpleon the horizon, to fill in the…
By: Bruce Levine Counting snowflakes As winter lingers Framing the landscape Like the sash of a window Frames the glass panes Divided lights Outlining snowdrifts As the lines on a calendar Divide months into weeks and days The season progresses…