By: Christopher Johnson The Menominee Forest is thick with woods.The forest vaults across northern WisconsinNear Peshtigo where hell broke out and claimed the sacred lives of hundreds of Americans the self-same week as the Chicago Fire—1871.We have penetrated this forest…

By: Lorraine Caputo NORTHBOUND JOURNEY We climb above thesmog of Quito. Nieve dustshigher mountain peaks. ~ ~ The fields of purple-flowered potatoes, green corn.Snow streaks Cayambe. ~ ~ ~ Through towns. Adobehomes one with the earth. Cook firesmoke seeps through…

By: RC deWinter rubrication your skinbronzed by your labors in the sunis no soft envelopewrapping your bone and sinewit’s the parchment of years spentdoing what men doi want to illuminate the pagesof this book of hourslet me be the quill…

By: Anadi Naik The casket was made of Mahogany and brassLooked beautiful like the body it held insideWell-groomed, silken white hairAnd complexion like a kernel of sweet corn.Eyes closed, hands lying on the chest look so real !Not the same…

By: Charles Gibson A round physical object,embedded with a numericalpattern is affixed on a wall,within view of a regular influxof observers. The numbers areresting sturdily in their individuallyappointed dwellings, arrangedupright while in a circle whichsurrounds two hands … that havenever…

By: Cynthia Pitman Prologue: The Book of Omens Behind the old car,resting on cinderblocksbeside the barn,lies a beaten and broken book.Its weathered hidewon’t tell its name,and the rain-soaked pages,dirty and torn,won’t reveal its secrets.Only a few words peek out:diadem,garland,craven,oracles,. ….

By Nancy Kazar Julia increased the volume on her device, but it didn’t drown out the shrill voices of her roommates or stop their relentless banging on the door. Julia removed her headphones and threw them on her desk. “Julia,…

By: James Bates “Hey, man, leave me alone,” I yelled, pushing Eddie away as he tried to grab the only pay phone on the psych ward out of my hand. He was a big man and it was hard to…

By: Stephen Kingsnorth Liminal What was the moment you arrived,when you, the child, could be shown off,and they seemed proud to name you theirs?That liminal, transition point,when you know more than they, for sure,and they know that, with awe, inside,not…

By: Constance Woodring It was spring, and the street was lined with cherry blossoms and magnolia trees. I stopped to appreciate the glorious fragrance that made me feel as if I were inside a talcum powder can. Ida picked a…