By: Keith Moul Diana Ipso Facto Far from soft nights in Rome, prairie pauses for ritual witness to headlights gleaming back from dozens of reflectors lining a half mile of rude driveway: sparkling nymphs to court Diana’s statue (long erected…
By: Simon Perchik * To clear your lips –a simple wipe though once spread out your sleeve fills with shoreline follows on its own, washed with enormous wings shaken off the stale crumbs half sand, half seabirds half before each…
By: Winston Derden Old Friends She told him he would end alone, an old man with his books. He wrote that in a poem I read myself into with a grain of satisfaction, a forethought of acquiescence into the comfort…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Matters of Mens Rea The development of the Magna Carte, Impacted, evidentially, on Ivy League dorms, Raised the specter of fascinating topics, Including sedition’s prime witnesses. History reports resolved international conflict, Got noticed via Gutenberg projects,…
By: Paweł Markiewicz Attention: This manifesto has in itself a magic power and it can finally refute the communist manifesto (1847/48) and its successors in the form of communist states. It burns a peaceful campfire! I am part of the…
By: Michael Lee Johnson Chicago Street Preacher (V4) Street preacher server of the Word, pamphlet whore, hand out delivery boy, fanatic of sidewalk vocals, banjo strummer, seeker of coins, crack cocaine and salvation within notes. Camper on 47th from Ashland…
By: Mythili Nagarajan .Destiny. Trespassers Are solemnly Condemned. .Inspiration. Nerved In vein By nerve. .Art. Spirit Of Thy Soul’s spirit. .Love. Absent minds In Treasure heart. .Fire. Ignites Thine In mine. .Beauty. Breeding – Autumn’s Off spring. .Confession. You are…
By: Macy Perrine He is saintly. an extra sprinkle of stardust an extra stroke and polish in heaven’s factory and the lord pressed copper rings in his eyes deeming him golden. once-in-a-lifetime, the kind of boy you never forget no…
By: Alan Berger I have never been oneTo want to ascend to the eliteFor more days than someI’m lucky for shoes on my feet Even when young In The Village doing poppers’ I never had a hat hung On the…
By Mark Lindsey Under the cool water there lives a lady. She sings a sad song of world’s past. Of how they rose and sank, And never dreamed of a better place. Where freedom and beauty are the lords, And…