By: Gaither Stewart The Malfunctioning of the Bel Paese After World War II the USA and NATO labeled Italy the “soft under-belly of Europe”, chiefly because of the presence of The Italian Communist Party (PCI), Europe’s biggest political formation of…
By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick Inside smothered Daggers hurled Unpredictable; hour, day, week Soaring into cosmos, fantasyland Illusion, delusion Curled fetal position, myriad of tears Raging aimed at no particular target Sleep, sleep, more sleep Drained from nonstop thoughts Awake with…
By: Balu George A hefty man in his mid 60’s in a t-shirt and jogging shorts can be seen opening the gate. This is Gopalan, a lawyer, proprietor of a law firm past its glory years. The firm built up…
By: Milt Montague suddenly I’m flying over the mountains an unexpected blizzard trying to maintain control against the odds fighting a losing battle rapidly being forced down down down down nearing the ground too damn close for my sake I…
By: Milt Montague I stare at the blank page the blank page stares right back at me mocking my ineptitude once again i’m confronted with the writer’s nemesis blank-pqge-itis a disease common to all wordsmiths you stare at the blank…
By: Shailendra Chauhan A pioneer of modern Hindi and Urdu social fiction, Munshi Premchand’s real name was Dhanpat Rai. He wrote nearly 300 stories and novels. Among his best known novels are: Sevasadan, Rangmanch, Gaban, Nirmala and Godan. Much of…
The distinctive voice of Irish-born Denise Ryan is strikingly captured in the debut collection of selected poems ‘Of Silken Waters’ that offers an immediate entry into her world, but also expresses an implicit realism that consistently sustains their compelling thematic…
By: Reese Scott If he felt like he was being pulled down the hall on a leash. The people walking around him all knew they were taking him to the furthest place possible from “home.” As he walked down the…
By: Julia Knowlton I. Your desire and failing light are the same. If I could I would make tea leaves out of you; to read. Their amber odor sweet. My private book. Your slightest look easily will unclose me, cummings mused,…
By: Julia Knowlton Do we travel for this—non-meaning, non-belonging? Now on the grey clock, I do not owe you a thing. You cannot know if I will ever come home. Here, strangers are the same as the people I love…