By: Aruna Subramanian “Cuck-oo cuck-oo….” The clock struck twelve. “Happy birthday Maaya!” Holographic Susan appeared before Maaya with her bright smile. “Hey, Susan! Thank you, dear! How are you?” Maaya was extremely happy to see her best friend, well her image….
By John Hansen Poetry is never subservient.It is bright flashes of light,breaking the restraints of conformity.The elements of human nature bareon a beautiful pallet—formed into meaningfulimagination.Poetry is a fragrance of extreme delight. ### John Hansen received a BA in English…
By: Anannya Uberoi I. McLeodganj McLeodganj does not know the nature ofwounds within these displaced men, andto what degree their pacific smilesjustify their cause. It is humbled withthe rumble of words that rush from thebursting clouds, spelled with syllablessprouting from…
By: Dalya Kanani Small Feet In Iraq The sun,She paints over the homelandWith her glistening shine and hopeGazing as small feet wanderThe streets of Iraq Without interruption or intervention,Bazaars are floodedears ring with commotionSmall feet dance aroundthe colossal magnitude of…
By: Aaron Sandberg “Firehouse on Fire” It was likethe engine locked thered house doors from inside,lit the match, and wishedto be the onebeing saved. ### “Out, Out” Arched back over porcelain tub,I scrubbed all four paws and tailuntil the rinse…
By: Ronan O’Shea —Your generation is too willing to take it lying down, said Smithson Rodgers. —Oh, matron. —Don’t be facile, Murphy. —Sorry. —Your lot are spoiled. —Rotten. —You’re not used to fighting for what you believe in. —When were…
By: Grant Watson I saw it first between the trees, a lightbulb blooming in orange neon – so bright you could have reached in and picked it from the branches like a fruit. It melted softly through the dark avenues…
By: Damion Hamilton Tommy had been down a long time. Thirty years. He had been a young man when he went away. Now he wasn’t young anymore. He looked in the mirror, there was more than a little grey. But…
By Mark Kodama I. I dreamed of the perfect woman hanging on my arm. But who was I to have these silly dreams. Short and uneducated with little in the way of manners, I followed orders. But this was…
By Adam Katcher The only sound was the occasional roar of a truck on the highway nearby. Ryan stared at the screen. Midnight had already passed, and everyone else in the house was asleep. Ryan, like the day, was ready…