By: Sheila Elliott (Inspired by a painting of the same title by Vincent Van Gogh, displayed in an on-line collection of work by that artist by the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.) You willed the bluest shadow an oak floor would…

By: James Bates The Two Harbors high school auditorium was packed. My wife Jasmine and I found space against the wall and waited. Occasionally friends stopped by and shook my hand.             “Give ‘em hell, Martii,” one said.             “Luck,”…

By: Anthony Ward I was feeling somewhat deflated, standing all alone at the bar, watching everyone live their lives while I was dying to live out mine. With my moods heaving from the atmosphere, I felt the urge to head…

By: Duane L. Herrmann The forty-year-old man walked numbly between the rows of household items. It was so unreal. Here were all of his grandmother’s possessions spread out for all the world to see. Until yesterday, Ted had not even…

By: Marion Horton There was a nursery rhyme gallop of a nearby train.Dum, diddle-um, racing to be on time.In her head, time stopped, then turnedto walk in its own shadow. Back, way back,to Ride a Cock Horse , that children’s…

By: Alex Andy Phuong Open closeUp and downDoing more than whatOne already knowsMade of glassOr metallicYet neverRemain staticElevate oneselfAnd avoid the problematicBecause everything goesEventuallySo lift oneselfSincerely

By: C G Ward Acts Count Orsino opened TwelfthNight with a high kickthat nearly cracked the sky,his declaration of if musicbe the food of love… almost distracting mefrom the distance between us.Almost. I had to hold your handto know you…

By: Hannah Retallick Jonty wanted a goldfish. Harriet had been allowed one when she turned eight. Father told Jonty it was a huge responsibility to look after another living thing, not one to be taken lightly, and he would have…

By Abu IshaqueTranslated by: Md. Saber -E- Montaha A small house in a small town. A pair of sparrows used to dwell in a hole in the north-facing wall of that house. One day they had gone to the meadow to…

By: Paweł Markiewicz The springtide wakes up not only in dreams.The snowdrops blooming in the moony garths.One listens the propitious paradise.The dearest graylag geese coming in flocks. I think of genus Primula from afar.The wild boar piglets were born in…