By: J. K. Durick Ancestors I can picture them, can’t youOur ancestorsThere in their huts and hovelsImagining a new life elsewhereThinking of moving onWanting something betterFor their children, grandchildrenEven their old ageI picture mine finally gettingTired of the acceptedThe things…

By: Anya Barlett there along The Bundas my reflection fadedinto the hazebefore I crossed the Huangpu Riverto Nanjing Road,the world’s busiest shopping area.The sun a forgotten friendto my face as my nervessweated off my skin, sinkinginto the ground under my…

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg A False Epistemology A false epistemology, affected steadfastly, makes life unlivable.Even had we most desired effects, services, we’d need miracles.Truth persists as consequential to originators, to people aspiringTo gatekeeper roles for questionable plus indisputable purposes. Altruism…

By Karen Lee Stradford I’m 16 today.I got a dirt bike.After years of asking, I knew that my parents would finally give in.I can’t wait tocruise.The envy of my friends. First thing I need is to learn to drive.At the…

By Harrison Abbott I’d just finished work for the evening and I walked to the bus stop in an elated mood. I got to the stop and checked the screen for the bus times and my one was due in…

By: Leigh-Anne Burley Don’t Go There A child in the wombhears whispers ofgrievances trapped inclouds of vapor We walk apart withblood splattered facesuse our tonguesas battering rams Behind crooked smileswe shake hands in suretyto pledges disrespected Yellow police tape snakesaround…

By David Conte He arrived at Berlin’s Tegel airport at eleven in the morning on a Saturday. The American Tourist suitcase by his side, the previous year’s Christmas gift from his mother, was bursting at the seams. Standing there, slumped,…

By: Bryce Johle Brother Sores Forget how we ulcered. You used to trail pearled ropepast classroom windows, stitch into microfoam,veined maple mecca. I was a squirrel hopping fenceposts,along a Van’s-trotting hipster, cracking the pearls,harvesting cardigan fruits as if I found…

By: Peter Wakefield Kitcher 22 November 2003 Sir, As my wife and I had been assigned as “Spectators” to the last National Ceremony, I have been asked to give an account of the proceedings. I have interviewed many of those…

By: Jeffrey Delano Davis The raw chickenin the frying panpulpy, thick, sinuoussheared apart with scissorsolive oilhaphazardlydrizzled, burner unlit, your thin tremulous handsracked with sunspotsand varicose veinslightly touched your lip. “How long has this been sitting here, Ma?” This horrorstarted so…