By: Jake Puffenberger He took his life like he took his coffeeLight on the sweetenerHeavy on the creamJust enough to take away the harsh edgeBoldFreshHe made it himself, alwaysNo coffee shops or machinesSomething valuable about the processHe sipped it slowlySavored…
By: Ed Krizek Music of Life There is beauty in silence.Nature still has somethingto teach us. The birdssing along with the car enginesand motorcycles. Muffled hallwayconversations. Doors openingand closing. Dogs barking.The music of lifeproduces a concertowhile I lie peacefully, waiting….
By: Ed Krizek After the episode everything was different. No one really knew what happened. I certainly didn’t. There was an explosion in the warehouse. I was in aisle 12B looking for a piece of a cystoscope when I heard…
By: Stephen Kingsnorth Kum Kum This Katra cell behind the police lineknows Yamuna’s confluence nearby,Uttar’s Sangam trinity,mythical togetherness of three,uneasy two in dim forgotten outskirt. Kum Kum with sick uncle encamp,roundel wagons ofbelievers Bible bodycircling hurricanes glowthen darker Hindu doubt….
By Mark Walker “What is life but a series of inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it doesn’t come every day.” –George Bernard Shaw, Pygmalion I began my global journey in the…
By: Ilhem Issaoui On sanity as you age a bit of sanity as you age would do you good, they tellIt builds a house and a futureand gives some weight to your gossamery existenceI close my dooronly to wear her…
By: Ram Govardhan Like most of us, Vedantam Rajagopalan is a friendly intender chap and, unlike most of us, too proud of his cerebral endowments. His Churchillian obsession with English and punctuation, particularly the Oxford comma, always baffled his New…
By Wayne F. Burke SPARTACUS “Panorama-vision” the big sell of themovies, back in the early 60’s, theornate theater (to my 12 year old eyes)in the neighboring townthe cushioned chairin the semi-darknessouch!hit in the head bya Juicy Fruit candythrown by a…
By: Steve Carr A giant oak tree, said to be over two hundred years old, stood alone in a field behind Ulysses Parnice’s property. The tree had been called Old Poor Boy for as long as anyone in the town…
By Gaither Stewart It happens, admittedly not often, in fact infrequently, but it happens that it snows here in the spring even though foreigners think our city is nearly tropical. Here at only fifty-two meters over sea level, at 41°53’30”…