By: William Ogden Haynes The old couple sits on the front porch drinking coffee, waiting for the bad weather, wondering how many more storms they will be able to watch together. From the porch swing they can see the pampas grass…
By: William Ogden Haynes “In all, after the plans were pushed through the City Council, 193 acres were demolished, 30,000 people were displaced, bars, jazz clubs, and other businesses were pushed out, and 41 acres were claimed as additions to the…
By: Tamra Scott-Hunt I don’t want to hate you…. I want to dig deep and remember the times you were civil, pleasant, and safe. I don’t want to remember the hot, cold burn of your leather belt, your bulging temple veins,…
By: June Hyuk Jung A heart as cold as stone Cynicism that is second to none Unable to see any other way And just worries every single day About what it could have been And always wants to know when Many…
By: Mary Bone I was in the Tribeca Valley Where the buffalo used to roam. The canyons echoed drum sounds from a long time ago. Corn was planted row upon row. Tribes gathered from all around To celebrate the food…
By: Mary Bone The clay people lived in the forest, Made pots and utensils, Hunted for food Lived off the land- Chanted around campfires, Made their own music Danced to a different drummer, They returned to the earth As the…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg At the old café, she puffed nicotine’s charms Into a perambulator that swayed a bit; such Dragon-breath assayed her wrapped baby. Wasting no time, a waiter, urged by his manager’s Stare, scolded. His long finger wiggled back…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg When outmoded enough to care for community mothers, we counted The ways they puttered in gardens, discarding cool, rainy day work As balderdash-type business (only university scholars should jab wet Dirt, sow in contentious grounds, attempt impossible,…
By: David If I was An inanimate object, I would be A single drop of water Falling from the sky Faster than the blink of an eye. “Bloop” landing amongst, Millions of other droplets No different than the others. No…
By: Chuck Orloski Hemophiliac Damascus, those eyes, those eyes, Rasputin’s eyes, like Russian S-300’s activated at abyss. Seducer, Gregory can’t get close to Czar Putin’s Alexandra, she doesn’t like beards & hooligans. Those eyes, scary eyes! What the hell is…