By: Ann Christine Tabaka Sally was bored, she thumbed her fingers as she sat at her computer desk staring out of the window, watching the newly emerged green leaves dance in the wind. She could not think of anything to…

By: Jim Bates Sunlight glistening on frosted snowIce crystals glimmering and sparkling brightStars floating above in a wintery skyTwinkling with abandon in celestial nightJanuary frozen in winter’s graspWinter’s soulful light burning fierce and fast.Jim Bates 1-13-15

By Mark D. Walker Moritz Thomsen was an iconic author and figure to his devoted fan base, and before his death in 1991 he had written five extraordinary books. Although we were of different generations and never met, we both…

By: Kabaw I heard the beeping of the B03 and K10 Public Utility Vehicle (PUJ) in the busy street of Noloc.   Brakes were squealing. I missed the chirping of the Siloy and Tukmo in the countryside. Our house before was…

By: Pramod Rastogi A fiddle and a bow If I were a fiddle held with a buckleYou could hang me on your shoulderAnd bestride with pride your realmWhere none would dare contest you. If I were a fiddle and you…

By: Robert Levine             In its Ideas section, the May 31, 2009 issue of the Boston Globe published an essay by novelist Alain de Botton entitled “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Data-Entry Supervisor.”  Botton laments that many contemporary…

By: Priya Anand Meenu peers at the unmade bed and the clothes on the floor. The clothes lie in heaps on the bed and the floor. It had taken her over 45 minutes to fold the clothes the ‘Kondo‘ way….

By: KJ Hannah Greenberg A Dearth of Compos Mentis Sanity’s too rare among apical players.Such persons prefer smoking lives toAiding their fellows through brambles. What’s more, too many ingles freezeWhen love’s parure get trafficked forTemporary passions, else importance. Today, short…

By: Carl Papa Palmer Abee seedyif gee age eye jakehay elm minnow peacue arrest tea hue feedub all you hexwise sea

By: Emalisa Rose Unpurpling the sycamore There’s two on the higher branch.Perhaps they’re conversing, in waitof the blonde one, to toss out someseeds again. One tips his wing; ready to sail thrucumulus. He lands, he takes off,in repetitive pattern, next…