By: Holly Day Dying on a Monday I feel her growing quieter beneath the pressure of my handsflops and flutters like a butterfly drenched in oil, only a few moments moreand there will be no more cheerleader left to tell…

By: Michal Reiben Anna climbs her dear friend, the Wellingtonia tree quickly and easily for she knows its every branch; it’s a giant of a tree, an evergreen with down swept branches, a rough, noduled bark, dense foliage, and little…

By: Nyse Vicente I hadn’t seen it thenEric DelaviereThe glinting eye, Phoebus light hanging upon the curve of your cheek, or the soft smile, lifted eyes, brows rose as we played in the forestChild’s gameWhen our parents called out to…

By: John Tustin THE CROW Some people have the bluebird in their heart,Some have the raven.Some the gentle sparrow,Some the brutal hawk.There is the crow in my heartAnd he eats my humanityAnd replaces it with sorrowIn the anonymous dark.  ###…

By: Katrenia Busch The Image In the midst of the nightDeep within darkness foundLost to vision or sightWhere my soul was once bound Searching through confinementSearching without restSearching that was constantSearching that was obsessed In the midst of a visionThat…

By Mark Kodama             It was the last day of school. Horace Mann High School was closing for good. The school – only twelve years old – was the model for the future. That is why they shut it down….

By: Tammy L. Breitweiser The salt shaker leaps from the counter and clatters. The granules form a spiral on the yellow linoleum floor. Among the curls of age, the white crystalline substance is a winding stream of exfoliant. No waste…

By: Supriya Rakesh She stood still, still as time. Toes immersed in lavish soft sands, soft waves rhythmically unfurling and colliding at her bare feet. Humid breeze ruffling through her hair, making it unruly, free-willed.  The occasional salty spray in…

By: Theresa C. Gaynord The Idea Of Me I realize I tend to surround myselfaround fears and self-protection,an emotionally tough lesson I learnedfrom very early on; the women in mylife, my teachers. I get like thissometimes, insecure, scared, anythingbut confident….

By Atticus Ellis “Marcus, I wish you’d just let me kill you without demur. I never like to make things messy.” “In that case, Gaius, you just might have quite the mess to clean up.” These were the opening jibes…