By: Christian Garduno Morning Frost I’m listening to your cassette and I’m wearing your t-shirtguess you could say I’m in your moodit’s a sure thingyou know I’d love toyes, yes, yessummer calls and the wind tastes like wineletters are sent,…
By: Stephen Faulkner The man stood silently at the podium, looking over the massively gathered congregation of solemn, sodden gray faces before him. He coughed twice to clear his throat and then, in a commanding voice, spoke. *** …
By: Karoline Wimmer Dust settles on matterspartly unseen,Dust settles on distancenot the dream,Dust settles on worldslong discovered,Dust settles on seas,yet to be uncovered. Curious it is,and curious it may seem,to dust as it floatsaway from the dream,to rest on a…
By: Christian Ward Apulian Trulli Dovetailed roofs shapedlike witch hats dominatethe Apulian landscape,their whitewashed exteriorsborrowed from idyllic tourist filmsespousing la dolce vita. Having been constantly built,taken down and rebuilt to avoidthe taxman, their walls brightenat the sight of tourists who…
By: Mohammad Jashim Uddin How long have we knocked each other?Historians like Herodotus, Thucydides, and Ibn RustahCannot complete writing the history of our love,They might have failed since it’s longer than that of history you guessed. Waters are enough to…
By: Stefan Splawinski Bureau of yokels subjected to much ridiculeperennial objects of fungivers of the worlds breadjust as essential as the sun so beware of good shepherdswho herd man not the beastthose who promise abundanceyet never provide the feast the…
By: Richard Puglisi Epilogue What is it?You wantThat you’re content with to haveThen when it goesYou find something elseThen when that goesYou look for it againBut one day your search comes to an endAnd there is nothing else leftWhich way…
By: Georgia Sutherland I Should’ve Learned the Breaststroke If life is a pool, I’ve plunged to myDeath, watching Time watching mewatching Time as my arms flailabove ripples, my cries drownin laughter, some gleefully floatabove bold white clouds, the sun blushesstaring…
By: Angela Moore Is There Anything Colder Than Polite? Thinking of…All those cold numb smiles.Time that rewinds and festers.…Chased with pleasant plastic speeches….Unpolished truths that somehow remain unsaid,muted by talks of sun and rain.Thinking of…All those polite gestures. ### A…
By: Dan Holt Doing What He Loved He alwayssat on the porchsmokingfilterless cigarettesall the way downuntil they burned his fingers He wouldtoss them in the yardand light another One daythe dry grasscaught fire He just sat therein his shortsand undershirtsmokingand…