By: Edward Wells One.  Names, on the other hand, are precise, unambiguous; one might even say rigid, fixed, unalterable, certainly inelastic. They are not the same thing, however. In the upper right hand corner is cerulean blending into cobalt, maybe…

By: Carl Papa Palmer Removing the library card from my wallet,an old photo, her first day of kindergarten,comes to view through the plastic sleeve. She woke me early that morning, wantedto watch cartoons rather than go to school.This picture Mom…

By Ruth Z. Deming He is the last of the Porter Family. I hardly know him though I knew hisbrother Tom and his daddy, Luke.Drunks all of them.They live on the next street, a street that reminds us of a…

By: Bruce Levine It was just a game. Tiffany and her twin sister, Brianna, played it often. At eight years old the girls made up many games, partially to alleviate the loneliness of their isolation, but, because they had each…

By: Chella Courington Athena to Arachne I can’t suppress envywhen your touch teases woolfingers long & agile twirling the spindle I warn youno mortal wins your bulls & birdsdivine debaucheries will succumb to my gods I shred your tapestrythread by…

By: Victor Azubike Effigies;Turquoise skies;Twin rainbows:FaintAnd prominent.Sunny afternoons;SolitaryTelecom masts;Derelict school Buildings;DesolateAnd barricadedFilling stations;Down and outFolksEking out a living. Crescents;Intersections;Hemmed in;At Wits’ end.City’s squareCrowdedBy lonely seats-Open spacesAndShrillSilencesWaiting for the nextSpectacular event,Solemn oath takingWith the holy booksOr traditional gun salute. Fleeting seconds:Lazy…

By: Paweł Markiewicz the last autumn – beejust before epiphanybeehive fulfilled?bee looking at fallin the beehive – wingsand the timeless dreamed sparksmeek bees as heroesqueen bee in ruminationmarvel of buzzingan autumnal beesleeping or awakening – time?beehive as templefall adorationthe bee…

By: Carl Papa Palmer In her quest to become a trimmer chickRose chose this slick trick and got slimmer quickshe ate nothing at all‘cept soup sipped thru a strawwhile humming the lines of this limerick

By: A Byrd Called Bird Wheeling in a chaos-scapeShe flutters down the winding streetSlipping between the empty people,Before she turnsLike the hand bursting from the lakeCrowning clouds with glittering diadems of frozen pearlsBedecking them in the manner of dancing girlsThe…

By: Jamie Nguyen Pulora Court I walk up and down Pulora Court every turning day,once when the sun rears its laughing head, once when it dips beyond the dusky horizon. Twelve mismatched iclers, six perside, shaded by color pencils stolen…