By: Raymond Greiner Today I have been thinking about geometric patterns and shapes, their intention and purpose, the obvious, the less obvious, and those, which are more ambiguous. I’m thinking about geometry’s vast and profusely influential melding with Earth’s…
By: Mozid Mahmud Kabir’s life still holds importance in a society in pursuit of the one true Lord, steeped in religiosity and caste. He was born at a time when the Hindu-Muslim strife was raging across the subcontinent. Divided into…
By: Raymond Greiner Preparing for winter. It is mid-October and the trees are spectacular. I anticipated autumn to be less colorful. We had such a dry summer; driest of the ten summers I have lived at this place. The…
By: Debra N. Diener I have ridden on the Carousel of Happiness. I remember everything about it so clearly — —bright red/blue/green/gold/purple lights multiplying in number as they flashed off mirrors overhead and on every surface of the carousel, –…
By William T. Hathaway Posted on streetlamps all over Germany are stickers showing fleeing silhouettes with the caption, “Refugees welcome – bring your families”. Some have been blacked out with felt markers or ripped partially away. The Germans have mixed…
By William T. Hathaway The wise men of the establishment are again telling us that hopes for lasting peace are a delusion. They declare that human nature makes it impossible, that war is built into our genes. They point to…
By William T. Hathaway Humanity is now in disaster mode, trapped in three double binds: a choice between war or national decline if we don’t fight, between climate catastrophe or economic collapse if we make changes, between COVID 19 or…
Ed Nichols of Clarkesville, Georgia has published another fiction book titled We’ll Talk Some More, which is a collection of southern short stories. The stories are set in the rural south, primarily Georgia. Each story captures the lives of ordinary…
By: Nadia Benjelloun “Welcome to our world….” is the thought that took priority in my head the day war was declared on Ukraine. I couldn’t even feel bad for not feeling bad. By our world, I had of course meant…
By Ruth Z. Deming In the driving rain, I stood at the book deposit of my local library. Thwack, kerplunk, down the chute they journeyed, ending with a plop. Did they deserve this? Of course not, but libraries always have…