By: Tom Sheehan Blackjack Paul Mulrain realizes he’s swinging these days through a vortex of thoughts and memories. It takes a toll, he knows. But he’s been here before; the past never letting go, the future waiting its turn. “Here…

By: Sasheera Mehrani Gounden Beauty encased is picturesque Cloudbursts exalt to kneel Celestial memories Pestiferous insectile lips part, black hole agape A flimsy black-laced frock slumps to the floor, a minacious apparition Eyeballs repose on a lit pyre Shards of porcelain…

By: Sasheera Mehrani Gounden Masses of spider-webbed head Cascade over Chinese silk sheets I sometimes wonder what you think A breakfast of larvae awaits Along with remnants of father While pieces of meat are seduced by seaweed Upon the crimson planet…

By: Jerry Mullins  Well just about everybody has heard that old saying, “Nervous as the town whore at a church picnic”. Now I can tell you about that, because it happened to me. I know all about that situation. I…

By: Sudeep Adhikari The garden of lovelorn mist flowers the airy spaceships made of stainless steel and a pocketful of silver, mixed with few multiverses of cobalt blue. I saw UFOs of weird shapes hanging on the ether like the…

By: Sudeep Adhikari Solitary, stoic silent and stoned a god stands tall with his fractal emptiness; green, saffron and vermillion red melting on his mighty chest while the sleep-walking witch sways in aqueous ecstasy her silty mist of lust and love pervades the effulgent infinity of…

By: Chuck Orloski Charlie, Delilah Mae Glutz, and me Prologue: Tabloid excitement prevails throughout America, for example, the times when an aging star, a businessman, or more often a politician, jilts a time worn wife for the sexual delights of a…

By: Rachel Schmieder-Gropen I tell her I love her and she does not call me cute. She says I am brave, says I am kind, refuses to boil me down into a shiny pink pill ripe for forgetting. This, I think,…

By: Rachel Schmieder-Gropen Sandals torn loose. Feet slipping over sharp stones. Frozen seaweed hanging heavy in my nose. Sea-road, cave-dark, flashing with the firefly lights of fish scales and torches burning low. Behind me, fire, violence, cries; above me, still saltwater…

By: Susan Speranza I wish I could fly back, back through time And, cell by cell, unmake myself. Before my father’s eye held hers in a lifelong promise, Before that smile graced my mother’s lips. Before the kiss and their…