By: Ricky Garni FINAL CAPSULE I like chocolate and I like obituaries.Some people like dromedaries and machine guns.There’s a ride at Disney World called“It’s A Small World After All.” And within it,an […]
‘Final Capsule’ and other poems
Jump
By: Vladimir Motchoulski The urchin told me to jump. “Jump,” he said. “Go on. Jump.” I looked away, down and away, toward the crystalline water shimmering at the bottom of the magnificent […]
‘Our names’ and other poems
By: Roger G. Singer OUR NAMES a prairie start,shadows overyour eyes,jealous cloudssilently passbrushing outwinds andunansweredprayersdrifting downfrom abovewith reflectionsof paths missedand wordsof fire thatno rain couldquenchuntil the yearsof tidesfloated tothe surfaceour names ### […]
The Renaissance of Criticism: A Post-Postmodern Manifesto
By: Trevor Anthony The dignity of the artist lies in keeping alive the sense of wonder in the world. – G.K. Chesterton The world loves nothing better than to blacken […]
Death and a Parking Lot
By Divya Chandrasekaran The vast hospital parking lot lurks among the shadows. Its asphalt blends seamlessly with the dark horizon beyond. The sun continues her peaceful slumber, tucked just beneath the skyline. […]
Like mother, like daughter
By: Kavita Sarin Lying awake in bedAt the ripe old age of sixteenI realisedFor the very first timeThat only a brick wallSeparated meFrom the tumultuous madnessThat ensued in the room next door. […]
‘Earthquake Weather’ and other poems
By: Don Thompson Earthquake Weather The air’s gone undergroundinto legendary deep cavernslocals believe in. And a river down therebroods in the dark—inexhaustibleaquifer of silence. Hot and dry and still.We look at each […]
Cinders
By: K.McAllister Day 36: I’ve come to the conclusion that she is not coming back. The halls have been void of sound for a while now, once the skittering of mice as […]
Lilly Necklace
By: Seneca Schwarz A proud voice slithers its way through her otherwise crowded orifice.“Your maze of tubes won’t hinder me from getting out and consuming her.”It said, “I’m almost finished here, but […]
Post lunch (between the adverts)
By: Ross Maclean-Bryant 2. And I knew I’d do that through telephones.The teletext confessionalsAnd the brashness of bones Amidst the extendable nature of shortcuts,The video games familiar,Charging across the bowling greenWith a […]
Literary Yard 