By: Prashil Kumar That day Anil peered into his own bedroom. The coast was all clear. There was nothing to worry about. At least not in the present moment. Or in the future few. Anita was busy. Too busy actually….

By: Connie Woodring I don’t blame you for hating women, but let’s start at the beginning. Born of ova (female) and sperm (male) you can only divest yourself from half of your existence.Your first sensations are of safety, comfort, warmth…

By: Kim Farleigh Sheep bells clanged with the sheep’s escaping hooves in an olive grove where hikers gripped ropes connected to trees, the track, slippery from hammering feet, plummeting towards turquoise over which refugees in rubber boats had come, fleeing…

By Andrew Wolczyk On the morning of his fiftieth birthday Alan Roome wakes with a sense of excitement and anticipation. He has great plans for the day. He rises, showers and dresses before his wife, Alison, wakes and he has…

By: Rehanul Hoque Provided you are my sweetheartBorrowing tints from aurora I will dye your silkWearing that silk, you will come to knowHow much of labor, exhaustion, decadence and miseryLurk beneath a thing of beauty. Provided you are my sweetheartYou…

By: K. A. Williams Here I am in a long line waitingfor my chance at some blindfold dating. This college party thing is weird – no doubt.But it should be fun to try it out. The girls and guys names…

By: Barry J. Vitcov Buzzy and Clara fell in love at the duck pond. Of course, like no other romance, it started with the willowy and vibrative sounds of a saw being played crudely by wannabe professional basketball player Buzzy…

By: Jules (my apologies, Williams) so much dependsupon a blue protectivecloak drenched with sweatand acrylic beside the pale whitebodies ### Jules, 23, is a literature student and instructor. He likes to read counter-intuitive and experimental poems. Some of his poems…

By: John McKernan I AM ALWAYS WAITING For a tiny splinterOf wood Long as this letter lThat weighs moreThan a baseball bat It will enter my skullAt a 90 degree angleAnd leave in two secondsI won’t even know it was…

By: Sushant Thapa Absence As I ask the eveningmy prayers to healI am like a moth circlingthe white bulb of never dying painSomeone will pass by andswitch the bulb off.Sometimes, the sunshinedoes not glow;I am left untouched by it.The moon…