By: Pijush Kanti Deb   As unabated have been my falling From the sky Down and down To the land of hell So unstopped have been your flying from our land up and up to the sky of heaven. Though…

By: Hanoch Guy Among the things I forget is that the living go on, diminished every day by eighths, fleeing from survivors in leaps and bounds. Getting farther and farther away from fathers, mothers and the divine, who abandoned them. They…

By: Hanoch Guy are helpless at the hands of the living, uprooting memory. The dead retaliate, invading dreams. Stand in line to demand their dues. Uri, with the satisfied smirk he wore when he beat me up with a split branch….

By: J.K. Durick It begins as an odd sensation, a feeling I remember From riding downhill on my bike as a kid, going Down Pearl Street, College Street, Main, almost falling, A pulling, pushing, a force beyond my control, faster…

By: J.K. Durick Misplaced first time, fresh from the garden center – Placement and the season are everything sometimes Too much sun, too little water, or drainage, of course The resilient native weeds and bugs contributed — Stunted, wilting, they had…

By: Jessica Goody The fierce din of the typing pool, thirty women battering the keys, their fingers flickering insect-quick on the glassy pebbles, stamping the white expanse with inky hieroglyphs. The rhythmic drumbeat of pounding fingers resembles the factory roar of…

By:  Jessica Goody The tyranny of the blank page, mockingly white, like the frustration of my barren mind, seeking rich, rambling words, metaphors with plenty of meat on the bone. I gather synonyms to strew on the page, berry-picking phrases…

By: Jessica Goody Surrounded by lush greenery, the house seems made of trees. ivy shrouds the weather-worn brick walls and strains upwards, winding around the moss-furred brick pillars. Heliotrope swells over the eaves, shrouding the windows in a vivid purple…

Chetan Bhagat’s ‘One Indian Girl’ hit the stands a couple of months ago. There were a lot of hopes and expectations when the book was being marketed and promoted by the publisher and the author. And let’s admit that Chetan has…

By: Linda M Crate don’t tell me that you don’t love me then call yourself my brother because families aren’t supposed to work that way, but we both know; you were never mine to hold nor were we ever family…