By: Ian Fletcher They bump into each other after thirty-five years at the funeral of a friend from university days whom cancer has taken from the world too soon. They’re both staying over so have arranged to chill that evening over…
By: Ricky Garni There is a bar named Honey’s that makes a delicious and exotic cocktail that uses filtered ocean water from Montauk in its recipe. Even though it sounds interesting and inspired, I am afraid to try it because…
By: Alyssa Trivett Newspaper cutout men danced in my head, my stomach bowling pin quakes, sits, stays, rolls over to machine beep symphonies. Bedpans slam-dance. I spy faint figures in hospital garbs; the ghosts of my dreams, as I see stars….
By: Alyssa Trivett We sit in our pill-bottles, dormant like vampires during daytime laundry cycles, scurrying away from our own heads with running thoughts ceiling fan spinning above us. Lawnmowers in front of me shake, hardware store paint cans. The horizon…
By: Balu George The Oneness of all things God is the taste in water, the radiance of the moon, the snow on mountain tops, and the twinkle in the baby’s eyes. God is the body, the hair, the feet and…
By: Tahira Z. “It’s time to leave, Meera. Are you ready?” Meera’s mother, Mrs. Joseph knocked on her door. Meera opened the door, wiping the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Her mind continued to replay the incident…
By: Daginne Aignend She feels restless, tensed, without a reason actually just nervous and twitchy. It was the time of the day they call the twilight zone when daylight slowly fades into total darkness. A deep resonant sound rumbles in the…
By: T.R. Healy Travers scarcely got across the suspension bridge when the top of the Chesterton Column appeared in a corner of the windshield. He winced. Just a shade over a hundred feet, the marble obelisk was built shortly after the…
By: G. Louis Heath I am looking at the motorboats racing up And down, going nowhere it seems, in the Pursuit of pleasure. This is recreation on The mighty river that runs through my town. I sit on a bench…
By: G. Louis Heath A phalanx of muscular, gray cloud gazes Dimly on my day. I hear thunderbirds Behind the thunderheads. Or maybe they Are chariots roaring out of Rome, drawn By sky horses. Yes, more like that. I think…