Poetry
By: James Croal Jackson I can tell you how many points LeBron scored last night or who won the World Series, but I can’t fix the leaking faucet in the bathroom, won’t mow the lawn if not overgrown. I don’t change…
Poetry
By: James Croal Jackson Between floors I meet calm– meditation when firefighters arrive. Frank O’Hara might be proud though there were no red lights streaming in how one can wedge one’s own ideology in a wavering tower halfway to clouds but…
Fiction
By: Christopher S. Bell I got jealous today, but it didn’t feel normal. She was maybe sixteen and didn’t know much about anything. I still found myself trying to sound cool, though, like this girl could whisk me away. I’d tell…
Poetry
By: Balu George When you read in the papers, About a successful young entrepreneur, 5 or 10 years younger than you, Do you feel irritated and sad? Now let me ask you something. Do you enjoy eating a Masala dosa?…
Poetry
By: Balu George If somebody boasts, let her be. If somebody does not boast, let her also be. If somebody eats chicken by the reasoning that they can’t fly, let her be. If somebody thinks it shows a lack of empathy…
Poetry
By: Linda M Crate i am passionate and intense, but also vulnerable; people have always tried to exploit my kindness as if it were a weakness— but i am no fool i can see through their masks even if i…
Poetry
By: Linda M Crate the cardinal found his way to the branches of my mother’s tree which produces too many walnuts come autumn which i would carry away by the bucket full as a girl to throw in the woods…
Poetry
By: Linda M Crate i walk past a magical grove where faeries play they don’t seem to mind me although they hide in the trees or ivy on the ground when i walk past i can feel their presence as…
Books ReviewsEssayLiterary criticismNews
By Ian Fletcher Before I start my humble analysis, here is the poem to refresh the memories of those who know it and to introduce it to those who haven’t read this masterpiece of nineteenth century poetry: Because I could…
Poetry
By: Emily Ellison What is the value of temerity if in slugging along, I am still a lugubrious snake in the state of cardiovascular plunder? This gut holds but the jitters of mice tucked inside themselves, a false scale of scary…












