By: M.F. Nagel Love or a trick of light. Somewhere East of the the pale moons of twilight Cometh the iceman Sing ‘in memory in vespers’; In sacrarium; in sacrarium (Has~d herself, himself given whole life all pleasures~ For sale…
By: Kousik Adhikari Generally the nocturnal birds begin their journey at this time When there is darkness at night, Nowadays I dedicate Some of my hours to watch them Sitting peacefully on my open rooftop, In the ancient easy chair of…
By: JD DeHart We should develop a matrix The business suit declares It is pristine white and unmarked Swiveling a chair half-circle Trying on the word matrix Like a new misunderstood hat.
By: JD DeHart We talked hours about Native American life Because I wanted to be one I had a whole book She even unearthed obsidian Arrowheads and gave it to me It rests in a plastic box upstairs Small memorial…
By: JD DeHart The first time I met Nabokov I only wanted to read him because I knew Lolita was tawdry, a reason Steeped in juvenile thought Quickly, I saw the poetic movement Finding his voice through transparent Embers of…
By: Aditi Angiras It arrived in its rented bodies unannounced as usual. I was on the flip-side, hanging out memories like white linen, drying out in the sun. Summers almost gone lips parched with desire. Now it’s all moonlights and rainy…
By: Aditi Angiras Alone and lonely, simultaneously. It’s like a double or a shot whiskey on the rocks, elixir from the top. Each year, depression kills more love than people. All I want to do is break empty glass bell jars…
By: Milt Montague long skinny fingers grasping for something reaching up, up to the clouds while anchored firmly in the earth crowded together for mutual support limbs once covered by leaves, now bare alive with bird and other flitting creatures…
By: Milt Montague tears of the gods mourning their creation their ultimate achievement the final opus and crowning glory an utter disaster they loved creating the varied species of life then dispersing them all over both above and below the…
By: Millt Montague once their mothers hope and joy their fathers dream of the future now a grandchild’s faint memory soon a two line bio on a gravestone two old men cherish a memory of a short togetherness a moment…