By: Christopher Collingwood The Feeling Returned The feeling returnedwith the season –the strand of yoursweater, caught beneaththe wing of a bird, unravellinga forgotten desire, a momentreturned by the flock,instinct carried beyondour misgivings. Knowing nature –I saw the uneasinessin their wild…

By: Chase Reed A tree on a hillSits tall and strong.But the tree doesn’t feelThis is where it belongs. One gust of windBends the tree east and west.North and south once again,It sways more than the rest. “My roots cannot…

By: E. Martin Pedersen The Toxic Wha That guy, that guy, that slapped mein high school, I’ll neverforgive him, that guy’s toxicI won’t sit with him at the50th class reunion, we werein P.E. playing soccer for thefirst time — it…

By: Charlie Dickinson Clamping cellphone to his fleshy ear, he glowered at the backyard, waiting on the rings.             “911, do you need police, fire or ambulance?”             “What can you send? Hurry, I gotta dead body here.”             “Okay,…

By Karen Lee Stradford Gray Hair They stick out.Silver streamers growall over my crown.Pepper my temples,peeking throughin the light. People notice my locks,and comment on the look,suggest hair dyeto cover them up. I embrace my gray.A sign of maturity,distinction.Comb themdown,but…

By: Richard LeDue Another Closed Door Midnight The darkness always returns,even if we bury ourselves under blanketswith a thread count we bragged aboutwhile no one listened, as memoriesof naked 1 AM (when time didn’t matter)flutter like moths looking for a…

By: Bhabani Bhuyan Translated from the Odia by Pitambar Naik After Four Girls Committed Suicide By Taking Poison Not to collapse, learn how to live, woman whateveryou do, whether you sell pan or vegetables, sweat orsweet, body or womb, learn…

By: Alan Berger Been a bad dayLike the day beforeAnd the day before thatLet me sit in your living roomWith your cat on my lapSay something funnyYou know I love you like that Play your pianoIf you hit a wrong…

Linda S Gunther, a suspense novelist and children’s books author, tells Literary Yard in an interview about her transition from the HR role in Silicon Valley to being a fiction writer and how her first novel passed through different stages….

By: Livio Farallo in theory on the flooris the smell of hardwoodwhich paints furnace air heavy as a swamp.the small countries of cold misti lay withhave set up snow fencesto contain flame,to twist shadowsinto ash of fallen degrees.where antlers rub…