By: Paweł Markiewicz and over and over my most lovely dreameriesthe marvelous time will prophesize the philosophyalway the Erlking ensorcells my soulonce more the heart longs for gentle remoteness of poesyand time after time the meek Apollonian bliss-like tearsagain I…
By: Bruce Mundhenke Songs of Yesterday In Nogales we drank tequila,Sang songs we were meant to forget,Wandered the streets all nightTill the roosters crowed,Then crossed the border and slept.In the daytime we showered in truck stops,Slept on Mount Lemon at…
by Markiewicz Paweł If it becomes darkly in methe meek dream comes into being almost neverthe mind sleeps in the Darkthe night unfolds its wingsthe dreameries are dyingthey are jonesing for the lightsI-Apollo am kissing the nighttimeso that a blackness…
By: T. R. Bates “My hands are warm,But my knuckles are cold,” Barbara announces.I tell her it’s because there’s no blood in your knuckles.This is an example of our conversation these days.Her world has shrunk and getting smaller.Observations are minutely…
By: Shelby Stephenson SCAG BALLET My son covers his face streaking with grunge.He edges the leaning pole with the Scag.The lime and vines fall good and hard with sludgewhen he hits the clean path, a surprise packed into stretches of…
By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey The day I was born terror had struck the city covered with charred smokefoul smell of roasted flesh and forms.Newly wedded couples shrunk in armsnot in ecstasy of joy but fear of terror. Bathing old man…
By: Richard LeDue Middle Class Role Model Singing in the kitchenalong again.Hands have no choicebut to smell of dirty dishes.Five day old macaronimore stubbornthan I’ll ever be,while a bluetooth speaker(a Christmas gift)betrays my burden,overflowing garbage canproves my privilege,and the plastic…
By: Francis Fernandes Grade IV Math Homework I’m trying to watch the hockey game,but my daughter the Roman numeral girl,impetuous, bold, but still in needof her own fan base, changes X’s, V’sand C’s and matchstick linesinto the more familiar single-digit…
By: Hardeep Sabharwal The text is just floating in the phone,“Are you angry!”The phrase, ‘I know what you have felt’.Is more an irony and less an assumption,And the reply, ‘No’But I hate you as much as I love you,Is not…
By: John Best Summer nights in Trestavere, Death andTime enjoy an espresso together.Why not? They can’t hurt each other. But thatnight, down one street twisted, now a secondstreet dank, then a third so narrow, in ahouse whose door is dark…