By: Karoline Wimmer Night and Vice When night breaksto all Christian viceslet me dance under the moonlightand feel the shame wash into me.As I scatter myself through pocketsof grass, in slums of ice inthe belly of the beast. The joyful…

By: Abdullah Usama Matthew Arnold, famous English poet and critic, had a peculiar perception that only the art of  poetry has the worthiness to sustain a culture or civilization through its beauty and truth as he asserts, ‘Poetry is the…

By: Martin Groff             All of this wouldn’t have been so bad if Margaret hadn’t just found out about her father. Ten years he had cheated on her mother. Ten years their family had been nothing but a lie.            …

By: Toney Dimos Georgina dropped him off at his place in the evening.  “There must be a party going on across the street,” she said, noticing all of the cars in front of Maria’s house  “Want to crash it?”            …

By: Ruth Z Deming How delighted I was to learn that Eileen was moving in with her grown son after living with her husband Bill in Florida. Bill had died a lingering death of emphysema. When they had visited here…

By: Ram Govardhan It’s inconceivable that Mona Lisa is Leonardo’s unfinished magnum opus, even after he took fourteen years to refine the elusive, enigmatic half smile. Yet, discontented with the outcome, he sought to improve upon it, even on his…

By: Shyama Laxman She She goes around the officeAsking if we have any foodA banana or even a can of tunaFor her ten-year oldWho is on the cusp of a tantrumFuelled by hunger She looks sleep deprivedThough her hair is…

By Doug M. Dawson             Percy Rainbow felt he’d seen a lot in his nearly seventy years, though he really hadn’t. He started life in the deep south, migrated up to Baltimore to work in its factories in the late…

By: RC deWinter to know the place i can be sittingstill as a stonesilentthinking nothing in particular suddenly your shadowslips inside my mindmy flesh moistens and meltsinto a landscape of desire you wandermy hills and valleysevery so oftenbending to drop…

By: Pawel Markiewicz You must excuse me. You dear dreamer!I have overly felt my dreamery about Golden Fleece.I built my small paradise without any other ontological beings.I based the dreamiest sempiternity on tenderness of my wings.Thus. I painted my wings…