By: Pijush Kanti Deb Five fingers- the fingering of inequality, consequently the clash is inevetable between sustainable happiness for a few and non-washable sorrow for others. Five fingers- the seed of argument and counter -argument, the cause timultaneous festival in…
By: Zunayet Ahammed Happiness lost Melancholy approaches Lights fade Flowers far away Stopped have the songs of the birds Rivers not flowing Greenness of the green pummels me like a hawk Beauty of the dancers doesn’t mesmerise me Inner music…
By: Jake Cosmos Aller The falling rain Of late October Fills me with essential dread As I rush about And end up here Wherever here is The rain outside Seems like the tears of god As I sit Crying over my…
By: Jake Cosmos Aller January January arrives cold as death warmed over As I make my annual list of resolutions Of the great things I would do The lies I tell myself to keep me going While recovering from the hangover…
By: Brian Burmeister “What am I looking at?” Cynthia asks. “Who is this? I’m confused.” A moment earlier, Tonya slid her phone in front of her friend, saying only, “I’ve got something to show you.” The two women sit in the…
By: Alan Britt I hold a gecko, mottled tangerine, fat tail, black eyes glistening like papaya seeds as if to guess my next move. Wise gecko. Gary the gecko— ultra-sensitive tail supports 32% of his preserves as carry-on. Gary the gecko…
By: Alan Britt As in poetry, so in basketball. A-frame garage’s 9 foot ice-cycled hoop above blue-gravel driveway or immaculate Indiana hardwood, makes no difference to me, but to Wooden urging freshmen to embrace basketball the way they embraced life, placing…
By: Alan Britt When Robert E. Lee Clayton, decked out in granny dress and bonnet, wheeled and threw that Ninja star into the burning forehead of a shivering horse thief, we got a glimpse, if only a microscopic hint, of our…
By: Tracy A. Powers It was that night that I saw you Not with wide-open, eager eyes But with a seeking heart– You relaxed on the floor, breath quiet and steady As I cautiously approached, All dark curly hair, and gentle…
By: Tracy A. Powers On a walk through hidden, urban woods Amber, red, and gold nestled inside Fallen leaves crunch under the stride of my boots’ heels With a sound like brittle popcorn crushed. After a collection of quiet moments My…
