By: Kakali Biswas Sengupta Translated by: Soma Roy Stealing the fragrance of youth Breaking waters, grasshoppers fly away to the eternity Like the girl who appears sans make-up Tracing the flight-marks I walk along Become light, become breeze or spellbound…
By: Binoy Mazumdar Translated by: Kousik Adhikari Mind’s remote part, greedy, Eternal receiver, I watch only the blanks, bringing Different warmth, Various winds create the cloudy wave In the remote sky, I think and feel so greedy, After the love….
By: Kousik Adhikari After the October rain fades out The sky begins blushing like a newly-wed damsel Yet to be rotten in the game of water, the clouds sail out To some nowhere land, I set aside my nets, angling…
By: Christopher Wong Timed writings, analyses, poems, And so much more in store. I really should be excited, But I’m not completely. Choice in class? Ha, never heard of it. “You do as I say,” As my teacher always says….
By: JD DeHart When I share James Tate poems with my students, they give me the same quizzical expression I am sure I had on my face when I first read “An Eland in Retirement.” After all, I was not…
By: Raymond Greiner The chords of harmony are not ringing in key, as the promised changes remain pending, lacking definition and substance. Advancements in technology have escalated globally as social and economic equality continues to seek stability. Disorder and uncertainty…
By: Zachary Amendt Johnny Walton lives in Charleston, S.C., home of Tara Lipinski. He teaches Navy recruits how to operate nuclear reactors on submarines. ‘The Moonlighter’ (KBR, 2013) is his first novel. ZA: The Moonlighter feels authentically collegiate, which is…
By: Linda M. Crate baby,it’s cold outsidelike thenightswe used to walkhometogether in;and it made me wantto cry whenjack frost whispered yourname in the ice—chilled meto the bone,andi’ve never felt so numbbefore in mylife;you were someone i thoughti could trust—didn’t realizeyouwere…
By: Linda M Crate you miss me? she claimed to and then ended our friendship over something petty and juvenile as me not answering a text whilst i was working, and it must be nice to live in a delusional…
By: Linda M. Crate you’re a loadedgod complexcocked and pulledshot me straight throughthe heart,and my stained glasssoul is stillreeling in the silver ofyour melancholy;giving love a bad namebecause the onlychess gameyou’ll play is lust—lulled me into afalse sense of securityjust…