By Jim Bates Train whistle blowingClicitty clacking alongChasing the sunset. Hot summertime bluesHigh heat and humidityLike a sauna. Deep into JulyGardens bright in hot sunshineSummer in full bloom. Summertime sunriseHazy orange sun looks ominousHot heat kind of day.

By: Khoi Pham I didn’t know exactly how The Shrink started, but people had been talking about it for a while. I didn’t really care, until it reached me. I noticed the first symptoms while getting ready for work. When…

By: John RC Potter Every family has a history filled with stories, recollections, and memories. Over time, these reminisces take on a life of their own, but a note of caution: they will only remain alive as long as someone…

By: Mohit Saini November lands like a sparrow on frosted stone,soft and sudden, with wings edged in fire,and the air tastes of woodsmoke and promises,like a story untold, heavy in the cold.Leaves lie scattered like echoes of summer,amber sighs on…

By: Tim Law Black, White, and Grey Black is black and white is whiteToo many people think that such is rightI am one to disagreeTo argue against society I choose not to just fit inTo see fat as fat, and…

By: James Aitchison When you accept yourpath and see the way,you will have peace.Strength is born ofpeace and trust.Those who cannotaccept, those who resist,so shall they bendlike trees in a great wind.Their road shall be harder,strewn with confusion.The balance of…

By James Aitchison Famed for her lithe, legendary beauty, she pioneered modern contemporary dance.  She performed across Europe, the United States and Russia.  Arguably, today she is remembered more for the macabre — some say absurd — manner of her…

By Jim Bates Fireworks on the beachFireflies in the backyardOne of a kind night. Fireflies are outDancing throughout the eveningPure flickering joy. Late on a dark nightFireflies blink in the yardSuch magical light.

By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan A Child’s Birthday Right of passage or loss of youth, you be the judge.Candles extinguished and cake portioned off.Wedged on paper plates to appease icing sugar mouths.Geometrical precisions for the gift bag army. To hear one’s…

By: Sreeja Naskar love’s womb was never mine the first time love touched me,i bit my tongue until itbled.(red on red. no one noticed.) a piece of it in the gutter—fat raindrops swallowing it whole.slick with someone else’s goodbye. another…