By: Satish Verma In suddenness, I will write a poem for you. You had stopped at the outset, like a black moon opening up perfervidly. Remote from the oneness of life, a flame leapt up to ignite the process of…
By: Satish Verma Something to leave for you. Don’t pull the other end of the string. Dedicated to the invincible, I raise a toast for a theorist, for not calling me back. Shall I move away from the road overflowing with…
By: Satish Verma The triangle― right-angled. Pythagorean I would never find the center. An absence gnaws at me. Standing in dark I start a talkathon with walls. Strically, I reverse the numbers. Fires start. I am still reading the page,…
By: Sandeep Kumar Mishra My city has dazzling appearance Its days are sweating labours The nights are stiffly precarious Malls, palaces, shops, skyscrapers All things are but only a granite museum People came from unknown places Growing day by day like…
By: Catherine McGuire Inside the Green Cross boutique, white walls, clean lines of an optometrist’s glass and steel you can’t afford us counters; soft, sleek lamps spotlight glass cylinders, discrete labels: Headband, Girl Scout Cookies, Blueberry Haze. Young budistas cheerfully advise….
from a mis-read headline By: Catherine McGuire The portable dust-bunnies need no help. Snuggle-lint nests in corners of my flannel jacket; they feed off the lining. Don’t worry. The rain-dyed wooden clothespins like hobos seeking shelter are merely misdirected —…
By: Chuck Orloski That day in the Mediterranean Sea, Jonah took leave of the whale belly and exited his reconnaissance trance. Upon surfacing, the USS Liberty afire, and Jonah heard no thunder from D.C. High above the American dead, Jonah saw…
By: Linda M Crate you wanted me to crucify my dreams and hopes and aspirations to be content living behind the walls of dead dreams believing in the vanity of scorn and judgment, but i could not be death…
By: Linda M Crate i can be soft as petals, but i can be cutting as thorns; gave you my worst and my best thought inbetween the scars we both had that we could find this thing that is…
By: L.D. Diem I never thought about killing myself until I imagined losing my daughter to some horrible disease seeing her deteriorate like I did my father- for eight years of his life it was something my 23 year old self…