‘By Peter Magliocco The Heat of the Mad Dogs Cripple me not, wild child, like a booted bagWhirling through the spin cycle of timeDrying out the husk of me.I saw you enough times come throughThe Vegas airport in the late…
By: Jason Visconti A Confusion Of Streetlights Houdini leaves his trick puzzling at the cross,The merry-go-round of light has found a wheel,A stray wheel jerked through miles tended to or lost,Red and green soldiers who’ve strayed from their field,The players…
By: Ethan Goffman Help, I am a human trapped within the body of a human! Is this body my identity?I didn’t choose it. Did it choose me?Without me it lacks agency.Without it, I can never simply be.Yet who’s this “I,”…
By: Sheila Henry MyInner Lifeblossoms onpages andcreativity spreads openlike buddingflowers on a Spring morn In humility I sharesecrets of myselfmy feelings and emotionsof doubts of fearsof achievements of daresbeing comforted by thestrokes of my pen I bare my soul on…
By: KD Smith Some wounds defy healing,too deep to reachwithout hurting innocent tissue.Some wounds wait, assumed to be healed,boiling in infection, poised to erupt.One sharp jab, an unexpected blow,and poison follows channels,corrupting all it touches,jangling nerves and rattling what was…
By: Mark Millicent OLDER On reflection it’s getting cold; on reflection,I’m growing oldMy gate and stride, not as robust.I sit longer than I did, not as active as the kidMusing and smiling at the treasures I keepThe things that I…
By: Christopher Brooks Streetlights My neighborhood at nightis haunted by ghostsof children playing stickball in the streets.When a car approaches,they yell, “car!” But the car cannot see them;they are ghosts—people of no color whatsoever. The car continues to careenmadly through…
By: Charles Gibson Darkness resides in the individuals,which sit in a small dark room.Their souls are vexed with impurities.Evil men who have no good dwellingin them. Their thoughts are those ofoverseers who seek to oppresstheir own inhabitants. Void of amicrometer…
By: H.L Dowless Hey you,hey!,it’s been quite awhile.Hey you,hey,it’s been a long country mile.Hey you,hey,I still like your style,your midnight black hairand your glittering red smile. I glanced into our high school annualjust the other day,you were such a glowing,…
By: Priya Anand My Rambunctious Garden My rambunctious garden, a name I unabashedly borrowfrom a book in my daughter’s burgeoning libraryIs filled with a melange of plants thrown together in a frenzySpindly curry leaf rubs shoulderswith an elegant Parijat who…