By : Amirah Al Wassif I remember! Yes, I remember this letter When my tears decided to escape Out of me, I felt that is better My soul took over my shape I heard him laughing at me and clearly…
By: Paweł Markiewicz 16 Man: rice Buddhist fields all the treasures of the world I’ll give you a wolf if you tell me what has so far delighted You? the most marvelous eternal poetry of a cracking philanderer she-wolf or I…
By: Alan Berger “Did you see that kid throw?” If Packer heard that once, he heard it a million times. One hundred bucks, times a million, he thought in his financial research wheelhouse first rate mind. With that kind of…
By Bill Butler When I was 17, my summer job was helping out in a pool hall located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. A shadowy place, it had a dozen brightly lit tables and the fragrance of cigars….
By: Cynthia Pitman Amalgamated Memories Imagine yourself seated on the ground, surrounded by baskets, each basket cradling a jumble of disparate items (a feather, a knife, a memory), items confined yet uncollected. Within each basket is one red marble, bright…
By Sana Mojdeh A Muffin Man is a mute, a filler, a nodder. A Muffin Man is an irrelevant, in most cases unfocused subject in the background of the frame who nods once in a while. Nodders nod against each…
By: Sana Mojdeh I’m waiting on the implantation floor, sunken into a white leather sofa that circles outward in the center of a large, otherwise wide-open room. Everything is white and blindingly bright in here. Whichever direction I turn, horizontally mirrored…
By: Lauren White Rambunctious I’m feeling rambunctious Yearning for reprieve from this restive existence In a transient state I watch my muscles twitch, twiddle, troll the air Looking for something to grasp So that I don’t have to remember Reimburse…
By: Vladimir Motchoulski Edgar slowed his pace as the burial oak crawled into his field of vision from beyond the trail’s end. His son Nathan scurried at his side, riding on a meek ripple of strength that would soon fade away….
By: Valerie Kinsey Her parents are professors at Brooklyn Law. I forget their names: Shel and Sarah or Saul and Sally. We haven’t said more than five words to each other, but I’ve watched their girl, Juliet, grow from a…