By: Linda M Crate i couldn’t be your dreamyou waltzed in,killing my dreams;insisting i be someonewho i wasn’tto fit your aesthetic ofwhat a woman should be— i refused,clinging stubbornly to the realityof me rather than yourill-conceived and selfish dream where…
By: Bruce Levine Jason picked up his pencil for probably the hundredth time that day and put it back down every time. It wasn’t a case of writer’s block because each time he picked up his pencil he wrote something;…
By: Ram Govardhan “No country other than India, and no religion other than Hinduism could have produced a Gandhi.” This assertion, by a London newspaper, echoes the romantic view of the world that India was always a land of ahimsa….
By Charlotte Pregnolato Harry sits expectantly at the table. Lights are low, candles lit, and “Fool’s Rush In” by Elvis, still Harry’s favorite, plays softly. He smiles as he draws his napkin from under his fork and places it on…
By Chitra Gopalakrishnan I stumble upon the goat woman in the ghost-grey rhythm of the August rain. This happens on the deserted Mandi road, near Juanapur village, a kilometer away from my home on the outskirts of New Delhi. I…
By: Jim Brosnan Silence at 1 AM Long aftersaying goodnight,I am adriftin sleeplessnessafter a tornadotouches downtwo counties eastof Hays, yet Iremember thatsmall Kansas townunder the glintof a crescent moon,the prairie cupgrassand silver bluestemat the roadsiderippling in a summernight under standsof black…
By: Sunil Sharma No longer could she stand—his body smell. Things suddenly got complicated that summer night. Sweating hard in the airless room, he wanted to have her body, the way the hungry want to grab a piece of meat….
By: Michael Stein “ANGELS”The expanding cosmos,Divine syzygies speeding awayTo no one knows,Myriads of angels in play. The snowy misty cloudsOf tiny drops and drips,Each in concinnity conveyed their gods,Wee angels with fluttering wings. Of the gods of green,Cosmical hover on…
By: Stephen Faulkner Changing my belief system was quite a simple thing in my case. Jesus was a simple answer to a complex malaise, a muddying of the spirit, if you will forgive such a strange metaphor. In the beginning,…
By: Alan Berger He would have said how the fuck could they make a trumpet out of plastic and have come forth out of it with such beautiful sounds. Sounds like he heard his father play on his brass trumpet….