By: Tanzina Halim As I sit by you, I see clouds passing byRains dropping on the groundBirds flying in the distant sky every now and thenAnd the sound of vehicles and human voices soaring high.From time to time, the mobile…

By: Jim Brosnan Words Left on Scattered Pages I spend the nightreluctantly abandoningmy dreams. Whena pink swirled dawnarrives under scribbledclouds, my thoughtsintrude betweenmy lines of versewhile they hoverover a horizonof mature corn fields,while they hoverover a horizonof farmlandand wheat silos—scattered…

By Nick Patrick Hickman It’s Isaac who walks the three blocks to the grocery to buy the hamburger meat. This whole plan is his idea, anyway. Except when it comes time, it’s Harrison who will hold the meat. The bait….

By: Debbie Tunstall Bark, snarl, moanDON’T howl at the moon,howl into charcoal nightwhere darkness hunts the hunted,Where consistency is metaphorbarking from the trees. Tip toe, nibble20lbs of everything,but when is wolf more than just a sheep?Or when ignorance asks,” how…

By: J.K. Durick Meteor Shower Sometimes they comestreaking down on melike that meteor shower,they promised us last night.It’s easy to picture, but hard to watch.Words, some whole some fractured,phrases and sentence fragments,pieces of half remembered quotationsall raining down,and there I…

By: Parthosarothy K Mukherji The Springbok was the national mascot of his native land, but his identity was always more tied to the eponymous musk deer—a species as alien to South Africa as was the country in which he would…

By: Suman Mondal When the Rain Recites Imagine I arrive at your home, crawlingthrough the damp monsoon night –petrichor rising from shriveled grasses,musky pungent drifts in the air,and you shedding teardrops. The sonorous sounds of rain,velvety muddy fields,suffused with your…

By: Ethan Goffman Way back in 2008, I began a string of wrong predictions by boldly stating that Obama could not win because the American people just weren’t ready for a Black man to be president. I followed that with…

By Kevin Armor Harris Sketch for a study of Egyptian mummies Huddle of supines, dimly lit, any motion ever now forever smothered. Surely there can be no escape. Embalmers with their hands on time have sealed all promise, bodies and…

By: Eliza Mimski She was born.The uterus opened.She cried.She cried.She grew.She took steps.She threw tantrums.She stomped her feet.She entered school.She was bullied.She was made fun of.She cried.She cried.She was adolescence.Her knees knocked.Her teeth came in crooked.Her tiny breasts formed.They weren’t…