By: George Freek LATE AUTUMN AFTERNOON (After Tu Fu) Those distant cloudswill soon be overhead,bringing rain or snow.The flowers will be dead.Squirrels play mindless games.It’s what suits their brains.Flowers and squirrelsare soon past their prime.But as I drink my wine,I…
By Stephen Myer I slammed my fist four times against the door before I heard his body swish around. The Drummer weighed a thousand pounds and had a face like a trout. I pressed my eye against the peep-hole….
By: Galen Cunningham Wasp Stings Wasp sting litanies across hairs strongenough to twine earth and hell;wings with wind strong enough to takeroofs off the stone baked houses.Their needling alarm will wakeone’s senses to the burning sun,leaving a thick and red…
By: Patrick Sweeney My excalibur pen, won at Excalibur Casino where everybody wins, is a spade and heart-sprinkled shaft topped with a bell jar containing two bright orange die. The jar’s discolored with the same gunk (luck residue?) that…
By Patty Somlo The afternoon following his mother’s arrival, Hamid dragged the faded green chair out and set it in front of the window. Hamid had pulled the same chair over to the window two years before, after returning…
By: Jade Quinn Luna stood there, dumbstruck by the strangest mirror she had ever seen, a thing that once had belonged to her twin sister Lupa, now dead. She couldn’t sort out how come the mirror, or whatever it was,…
By: Carl “Papa” Palmer Icicles always fat at their topstapering down toward the ground,time frozen in melted dropsfrom eaves around the town.They drip in the day,refreeze at night,melt away,out ofsight
By: Enrico Barigazzi. The last time i’ve seen you The fall has come bearing down on my shouldersthe forgotten regrets concealed into a casket full of summer sandand your eyes have been twinkling inside my memoriesas stars in a dark…
By: Angela Moore Your True Worth When you can’t see your worth.You crave fames decadent reprieve.To melt the emptiness within.Bask in the spotlights warm glow.Though it only illuminates the damage they’ve done.To such a beautiful soul.Who was and will always…
By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey Memories sprout like cactusthat I planted in my potsoft,spiky shoots tender as nightremind me of coarse fabrics of your cloththat I dared to touch unmindful of pricksand oozing droplets of blood on my tips.Yellow bulbs of…