By: Celine Low Saturday Night Fever We sit, boozy livers and light headstalking late,making fat sounds falling flatinto the carpet,glasses sweating on the table. One momentlooms large, theredlava lampbleedingonto our faces: which one of usshot himself with a finger gunand…

By Mark Kodama, Jim Bates and Kim Hood The Wizard of Mar-a-Lago Donald, a rich kid from Kansas and his friends Breitbart,and  Michael the Fixer meet at Donald’s tree house for their monthly meeting for the local chapter for the…

By: Thomas M. McDade Yes, Lemon Maybe it’s calculatedStopping at the Town LoungeOn the wagon wanting someOf the old whacko atmosphereJust give me a Coke, yes lemonDon the owner cocky on his throneSays this ain’t no soda fountainYou know that…

By Andrew Wolczyk The preacher walked alone down the dusty street, looking neither right nor left, his focus on the distant horizon line.  He had walked for days, and he knew that he would walk for days more, maybe weeks,…

By: Bill Portela Democrats, Republicans, liberals, and conservatives. Whites, Blacks, Asians, or Hispanics. Smothered-harried workers, or instead, yacht-basking hedge fund managers behind gated communities. With which of these extended-virtual clans do we associate? Oh, that’s right. We human-types are pinnacle…

By: Varnika Goel It’s strange how I lie down.I face the wall alwaysOtherwise if I face leftI feel the lingering lonelinessFew words escape my mouthWithout moving a centimetreIn dark I let my mellow mouth moveI force out voice from wind…

By: Jimlad Abdullateef HOPEYou are a broken shadowShattered into prickling pieces with no weapon to muster it.Your eyes are empty, Tears of anguish roll down your cheek.You could not see anything fruitful but darkness,Silence steals your heartAs the windstorm swirls…

By Gaither Stewart                         What might have been and what has been                        Point to one end, which is always present.                        Footfalls echo in the memory                        Down the passage which we did not take….                                     T.S. Eliot                                                           1.           After Alessandra…

By: Jon Petruschke In the darkonly my handssee you. Trail of clothesto yoursmall patch of meadow. Slidingyour pink jewelon my ring finger. Summer scorcherher t-shirtwears her. Country fair contestbehind the tent, showing offwhat she’s grown. In her hipsshe feelshis storm…

By: John F Zurn Uriel Fox enjoyed his many discussions with his fellow citizens of Newton. Nearly every evening, he’d meet group retirees and enjoy coffee and stimulating conversation. One afternoon when some seniors suggested that he should run for…