By: Linda M Crate the soft whisper of my voice is like a rustling of leaves people are always trying to talk over me with the roars of their ocean, but they do not tend to their birds that’s always…
By: Pijush Kanti Deb The inevitable searching season Starts its reactive actions on the crowd But in the blind age only Keeping two luminous witnesses The Sun and the Moon In one hand And in other Compelling the eyes To…
By: Pijush Kanti Deb How long is the tape of longings? Unlimited- the prompt hereditary answer Revealing One of the childish ideas We conceive and feel proud of While Counting stops itself very soon in measuring The limited means of…
By: Gaither Stewart Her two roommates, Piera and Paola, reconstructed that Priscilla had been missing since noon on December 31. To the police agents twenty-four hours did not sound like a long absence but for Piera and Paola it was…
By:: Gaither Stewart The parable is told of the boiling of a frog. If you put it in boiling water the frog will jump out as soon as it feels the heat. But if you put it in cold water…
By: Janna Vought When I hit the windshield, I think about laundry in the dryer, chicken for dinner thawing on the counter—my daughters. I land in the space between the nothing, tangled up in my headphone wires. My body shatters, pieces…
By: Janna Vought Elizabeth Báthory, 1560-1614, history’s most prolific serial killer, accused of torturing and killing hundreds of young women, then bathing in her victim’s blood. I’m shadow, a symbol cast to paper. I’m myth ravaged by hungry heat, bloated with…
By: William Ogden Haynes Today I found my father’s old wristwatch. The battery was finally dead, although it probably lasted about a year longer than he did, dependably counting the minutes in case someone wanted to glance at the correct time….
By: William Ogden Haynes I was a young professor with a newly-minted doctorate driving south from Ohio to work at Auburn University. I pulled my old Chevy into a used car dealership and before I could get out of the car,…
By: Sasheera Gounden I I was sitting in the waiting room with fear soaking my armpits leaving a trail of odour behind. The many eyes surrounding my retina were repugnant. People tend to judge you if you’re a bit strange. I,…