By: June Hyuk Jung A heart as cold as stone Cynicism that is second to none Unable to see any other way And just worries every single day About what it could have been And always wants to know when Many…
By: Mary Bone I was in the Tribeca Valley Where the buffalo used to roam. The canyons echoed drum sounds from a long time ago. Corn was planted row upon row. Tribes gathered from all around To celebrate the food…
By: Mary Bone The clay people lived in the forest, Made pots and utensils, Hunted for food Lived off the land- Chanted around campfires, Made their own music Danced to a different drummer, They returned to the earth As the…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg At the old café, she puffed nicotine’s charms Into a perambulator that swayed a bit; such Dragon-breath assayed her wrapped baby. Wasting no time, a waiter, urged by his manager’s Stare, scolded. His long finger wiggled back…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg When outmoded enough to care for community mothers, we counted The ways they puttered in gardens, discarding cool, rainy day work As balderdash-type business (only university scholars should jab wet Dirt, sow in contentious grounds, attempt impossible,…
By: David Shapiro For Michael Phelps, depression is both a problem that many athletes face and also a personal challenge. Despite being the world’s most decorated swimmer and the Olympian with the most medals of all time, with 28 Olympic…
By: Alexander Kemp Disclaimer: This is mostly a true story, but not really, but this actually did happen, but not really, but yeah, its non-fiction, except all the parts that are fiction. New Year’s Eve (December 30, 2016) “Takes an…
By: David If I was An inanimate object, I would be A single drop of water Falling from the sky Faster than the blink of an eye. “Bloop” landing amongst, Millions of other droplets No different than the others. No…
By: Jim Alexander Dave and I stood dumbfounded when we gazed across the Tiber Valley at the ancient city of Civita. The abandoned medieval buildings that clustered atop steep cliff looked surreal and the distant plateau might have been an apparition….
By: Chuck Orloski Hemophiliac Damascus, those eyes, those eyes, Rasputin’s eyes, like Russian S-300’s activated at abyss. Seducer, Gregory can’t get close to Czar Putin’s Alexandra, she doesn’t like beards & hooligans. Those eyes, scary eyes! What the hell is…