The next time your drive takes you into the countryside, take a moment to look at the trees. Are you struck by the majestic presence of ancient, broad-canopied trees that stand like rooted historians? For millennia, trees have been a…
By Philip Graubart “Pickleball? You’re not going to Grandpa’s 90th birthday party because you have a pickleball tournament?” My mother was stacking boxes, her back to me. Dust mites tickled my nostrils. I was two weeks past my 35th…
By Goutam Roy Cry in a Haunted House Solitude consortswith whispered shadows,reigning in the cold, stale airof the deserted house,forsaken long agoby those who fled in terror. The cry of ill-fated souls,still echoing,weaves through the cracked walls—a tapestry of raw…
By James Aitchison When the Lebanese-born American poet Kahlil Gibran published The Prophet in 1923, he little knew it would become one of the best-selling books of all time. Nor could he have known that the world’s most famous rockstar…
By: Bruce Levine Happy ThanksgivingHere’s to turkey and good cheerJoyous days ahead
By: Sally Lee Branches and Breaths Breath, a river,unseen but constant.A tether through marrow,an ember in silence. It drifts dusk to dawn,vein to vein,horizon to horizon—an orbit of soil and pulse. Breath aches and kindles—a hush that shatters nothing.It returns…
By: Farheen Shehzadi It was a Sunday in December 2016— a night cloaked in the deepest shades of winter. The bitter cold seeped through every narrow alley of Mariabad, wrapping each corner in silence and frost. It wasn’t just another…
By: Tim Law Confusion I’m so damned confusedBy this game we call lifeLost on the work frontSo quiet with my wife Budget is blownBe it for wages or a loanI’m not sure what I’m doingA mental blank while on the…
By: Kevin Armor Harris The business with the pressure in my ears, that horrid popping I had in my head that I couldn’t explain, this is what happened. I went back to the hospital, the clinician had the scan shot,…
By: Richard LeDue “Separate Vacations” Back to the blank pagelike it’s some sort of loverwho forgives my silencestoo easily. These words kisseson the back of a neck,undressingthe softest apology. That’s probably whyI always returnbecause I don’t ask eitherabout the other…