By: Don Thompson Earthquake Weather The air’s gone undergroundinto legendary deep cavernslocals believe in. And a river down therebroods in the dark—inexhaustibleaquifer of silence. Hot and dry and still.We look at each otherwithout saying what we know.** Dance Wind in…
By: K.McAllister Day 36: I’ve come to the conclusion that she is not coming back. The halls have been void of sound for a while now, once the skittering of mice as they hunt for any type of sustenance was…
By: Seneca Schwarz A proud voice slithers its way through her otherwise crowded orifice.“Your maze of tubes won’t hinder me from getting out and consuming her.”It said, “I’m almost finished here, but my appetite is insatiable…and you look delightful.” “On…
By: Ross Maclean-Bryant 2. And I knew I’d do that through telephones.The teletext confessionalsAnd the brashness of bones Amidst the extendable nature of shortcuts,The video games familiar,Charging across the bowling greenWith a famished pair of scissors And though these fingers…
By Russell Richardson “Did you fuck with my fruit?” my wife called through the open bathroom doorway. We had long ago abandoned the formality of shutting the door when doing our business. But, yes, she had caught me. A new…
By: Hardeep Sabharwal If it is male Taunts will be focused on his caste, If he is heretical, questions will be made in the name of religion, If it is a female Her character will be dissected, and Jokes will…
By: John P. Drudge As She Moved Time stilledWhen she walked acrossThe roomStopping his mindIn its tracksThe inverted maskOf his fearFalling to the groundAs she movedSeeing somethingReflected in her eyesPerhaps doubtA dreamRegretA deep somethingYet unspokenBehind a smileOn the surfaceOf secrets…
By Jon Carter peaceful nothing downtown sidewalkpeople walk bytalkingsmilingbrightignorant /happy teethunwilling to acknowledge that no easy thingslive in the chestand nothingmeaningfullivesout of it, beyond thema dying elm tree standsagainst the street,ideas like mulchsurrounding it as it’sstrangled by the sun-no rainno…
“Poetry is a conversation between the present and the past with a hope for the future. A visitation with bards and griots, and a probe, like a wandering rocket, into parts yet unknown. A modernizing of a message in stone,…
By: Kevin Criscione Like ghost ships passing in the night or dark-hued mountains in the distance, each call a portal to a different untouchable world into which I was only offered a brief and unsatisfying glimpse. I was thirty-two. I…