By John Grey THE GREAT UNKNOWN Benny bends over his guitar,picks licks between chords. from Clapton and Broonzy.Jeff Beck and Albert King and the kid he once wasplucking riffs out of the airin front of a full-length bathroom mirror as…
By: Alan Berger There is a soft breeze coming from a place I use to be A sweet gust between the two of us A truce of sorts if you want to call it that A sort of cease…
By: Woodie Williams Jim hopped out of his ancient, green pickup truck, slammed the rusty door shut and ambled towards us. The rest of us were hanging out in the shade beside Donnie’s house, not doing much of anything, waiting…
By Priya Anand I wake to dark grey skiesA thin drizzle that easilyDiscourages me from my morning walkI peer through the bamboo fenceA persistent few are out in their windcheatersDetermined to get their daily constitutionalSome wear masks that match their…
By: Gabriella Symss One eye began to come unglued from sleep and punitive morning light struck with raucous determination through the crack. A wad of cotton sat inside her skull accompanying the mildest taste of bile at the back of…
By: John Tustin DARK EYES AND DIMPLED SMILE You.YourDark eyes and dimpled smileIn the wan twilightOf a packed room – I cannot paint it,Draw it, tell itButStill You:YourDark eyes and dimpled smileIn the wan twilightOf a packed room Is shiningAnd…
By D.C. Mason Kenneth Wolfman was surprised by how much the sight bothered him. The red glow of the heat lamp and the static clicking of its electric hum filled the coop with a strange vermillion that was without…
By: Somaah Edwards “Broken Young Woman” From where he standshe could seea broken damseldangling in his view, broken dreamswaltzing in her pairof dark blue eyes, disappointmentsfloating allover herlittle peach face, the advertising crackson her little lipswere as shallowas the unpleasant…
By Andrada Costoiu The artist’s prison Your fingers are dancing molding the clay,In shapes that your heart has requested,Trembling,Touching with the force and desire of your inmate thoughts,That promise to become something. You clothing, covered in the black ash of…
By: Katrenia M. Busch The lighthouse The sun was shining through the cloudsAs the ocean waves poured inThe sky above indeed—did crowdAs the lighthouse stood within Within—the lapse of time foundWithin the depths of aweAs you listened carefully to the…