By: Frances Leitch Spring In The Air In thinkingof that warm breezeFelt after burrowing throughthe long, white winterIn thinkingof delight and easeA smile crossedthe rutted roadAnd time stoppedHeld me thereIn a moment’s joySpring in the air Wildflowers The flowers that…
By: Harrison Cashmere The Red Dust of April You arrive like a held breath against the Zabarwan,row upon row of silk cups catching the mountain sun.But spring in the valley is a thief;you offer your throat to the breeze,knowing the…
By: J.K. Durick What Time Does Eventually this allGoes awayDisappears intoTimeBecomes the historyThey will studyLook back on usAnd wonderWhat we were thinkingWhat influencedThe outcomesWe have madeThe things we lostAnd the thingsWe have gained.News does thatMakes everythingTemporaryExcept the damageWe’ve doneTo ourselvesAnd…
By: Paul Dickey Functions She knew him too well for this timeto matter, but he stayed up anyway,all night, to copy logarithm tablesand drink beer. “To see what she’d say.”He wanted her to-experience– –the importance of his studies,instead of just…
By: Tim Law Your Wish is my Command Here I sitI fish for a fishFor a fresh fish dishIs your only wish Once your cravingsI could find at the shopA midnight driveA mid-morning stop Gaytimes at night timesA hot chicken…
By: Trishant Subedi Behold that olden world—the grief stillwaiting to be told.I know it was a thing I could have told.I was forgotten,and was growing old. I am leaving with the cold air,I am leaving with a silent despair.Do not…
By: Jim BrosnanWriting at Midnight I keep rememberingin every letterI reread unfinishedcorrespondence— incomplete messageswhen I became lostin deep thoughtas I wandered through unnamed towns withwhite gazebos, pasta vacant lot with onlya swinging Sinclair sign— a survivor from a lastyear’s tornado…
By P. V. Anand Krishna I never chose this existence — this small space with stolen breath,these walls that silently constrict every time I take the chance to dream. I was destined for wider horizons, for paths that exhale under…
By: Aritra Basak Thin as Eyes I used to enter like a seeker of the quiet—barricaded graveyard, rented peace,an alibi from the scripted day,my breath new. Now the church is bright in a crueler way.The candles burn thin as eyes.The…
By: James Aitchison In the quiet minutes,before the sun dips from sight,the earth holds its breath as a day dies.We dare not breathe either.It is when hatred dissipates in a blaze,when thoughts disconnect from past lives,when we are born anew.Yet…