By Bruce Levine Reverie Redux Fluorescent lighting Hovering overhead Transient groups Outlining intervals Of time in a tube Multiscopic vision Projecting data To artificial intelligence Cognitive memory Enhancing realms Infused with dogma Telepathy based society Filled with sensory channels Telekinesis…
By: Judith Ferster Fevered, unconscious, I was ambulanced to the ER where, worried I had had a stroke, they sent me, I learned later from records, to the nearby wing with a CT scanner and another with an X-ray machine,…
By: Paweł Markiewicz The quire of the sheep We are calling for your soulfor a benevolent autumnal sourceMay the hoary times arrivefull of sunny gloom endlessly dream! with a fancycoming from tender seawe are conjuring you dreameryour mythical pearls Come…
By: David R. Topper I often think that they’ve only gone on a journey,and I shall see them all returning homeward! Compelled by an inner urge, some“pre-established harmony of notes and words,”Mahler composed Kindertotenlieder. The day is bright. Fear not!They’ve…
By: James Aitchison Life whispers,and we dream.We have escapedfrom the cage we made.We are no longercontained.Calmness reigns,and stars glitter like grapeson the moonlit vine.Freed, the soul shimmersfor all humanity to see.Truth leads us into agarden where theheart blossoms.
By: Stephen Bett Heinrich Böll, Group Portrait with Lady (opening line; trans, Leila Vennewitz) The female protagonist… is a woman of forty-eight, German: she is five foot six inches tall, weighs 133 pounds (in indoor clothing), i.e., only twelve to…
By: Mahathi ONE MORE DAY It’s one past twelve. One more day passed away,not like a floating cloud with laze, nor likea rollercoaster fast with jolting sway.So dreary, like on a prosthetic leg to hike!I wish I paint my time…
By: Matthew Borczon It comes with the job I wasat worklistening toJudy talkabout hertime asan aidin a nursinghome shewas sayingthat whenthey wereclose todying shenever wantedto workwith them because ifthey passedthe aidwould haveto cleanthe bodyand shejust couldnot do that It is…
By: April Mae Berza The Goddess of Books and the Singer-Songwriter (For Dale) I am but a goddess of books, books welcoming you with my loveliest chapters,the soul of eternal words and finite worlds. You are a mortal, a singer-songwriter,…
By: The Rhapsodist EVERY GIRL-CHILD IS A PETAL OF WITHERED FLOWERS There were nights I saw my sister eating herFingernails, drinking from her teardrops as theyRolled down her eyes, down her cheeks_ intoHer mouth. She would stay awake all night,…