By: J.K.Durick Spine – Xray ### Bookmark by Gavin a grandnephew once removedis gone but this gift,given I don’t remember when,remains. His name written in childish lettersand some coloring are all that’s leftof the moment – it marks his placemy…

By: Theresa C. Gaynord RED CINNABAR Discard my clothes, my glamorous spoilsand fate me before the dispossessedfar removed from my gowns of tulle andspangles. Walk me toward the peak of the mountain,strip me of my name as I watch the…

By Beatriz Cicci Ms. Maureen Campbell was proud to attest and confirm with confidence that, throughout her 72 years of life, she had only kissed whom she had ratified to be totally and completely in love with. When inquired in…

By: Don Thompson Pioneer Cemetery These tottering gravestones remainunexpectedly whiteafter all sorts of weather—unlike the bones buried here.They’re gray going black by now,blotched with off-greenlike moss on the wooden markersworn nameless years ago. ** Inflation Spendthrift wind strips the trees,scattering…

By Mark Kodama             When the wrought iron gates of St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys swung wide, George was just an unwanted reform school boy destined for oblivion. But George Herman Ruth could play baseball better than any other…

By: Stephen Faulkner I walked from where it all took place with a steady gait down a dark and humid street. Darkness enveloped me like a shroud, like a fetid blanket pulled around me, hiding me. Still her eyes found…

By: Alexis Zarco SeesawThe rustic seesawof sun bleachedblues & redssat trapped in itsbeginnings. Green wildgrass& yellow wheatgrow in betweenthe wooden seats. Childish giggles& small footstepsechoing in the empty spacemocking the young’unswho are all but grown. ### The Life I Deserve…

By: Jesse Wolfe Aubade Her brown curls heaped on the pillow,the comforter sprawled below her breasts.She fled into her magazine. For a minute, motionless, he stood.Starlings chattered in the walnut tree. * * In days they decided on a baby.It…

By Alan Berger Islands in the streamFrom Cold Spring HarbourTo the village green         Mouth full of marijuanaFrom TorontoTo Tijuana HeyI’m not a good travelerI don’t have the sight seeing stamina  Death may be not what it seemsIt could be the…

By: Anupama Mishra But I forget this in madness,Now the childish tender feelings of mineare on obstinacy strike,To go to such place where it was at a timeWhen immaturity was at its prime,All the things had an element of wonder.But…