Amazon.com announced that Richard Bach, best-selling author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull and Illusions, has published “Illusions II”–a sequel to his 1977 best seller available exclusively in the Kindle Store as a Kindle Single. With over 60 million copies of his…

By: Brylle Bautista Tabora God likes to paint with one eye closed The sky is his canvas In the morning he dips his thumb into two colors: Blue and white (the purplish white) and starts to draw unfinished images: An elephant…

By: Brylle Bautista Tabora after Donald Hall And as I begin to write this poem the trees outside turn into burning spires, the mist takes the shape of a lonely man, and frogs all over imitate the cawing of birds. Someone,…

By: Brylle Bautista Tabora Ecology became a household word that appeared in newspapers, magazines, and books—although the term was misused. Even now, people confuse it with terms such as environment and environmentalism. Ecology is neither. ​              -Elements of Ecology We have called…

By: Brylle Bautista Tabora “Ma, just let go. Save yourself,” said the girl, whose body was pierced by wooden splinters from houses crushed by Supertyphoon Yolanda. —Philippine Daily Inquirer, Nov. 11, 2013 The world does not owe you an explanation. Like…

A Five Martini Response to “Writers and Rum”  By: Christopher Connor Two weeks ago, Adam Gopnik, a veteran writer of The New Yorker, published an essay titled “Writers and Rum.” Mr. Gopnik’s post was prompted by The Trip To Echo Spring:…

By: William T. Hathaway There it goes, disappearing into extinction, that fine old mark of punctuation, the comma of direct address. Every time I read an email that starts “Hi William,” I wince. Deep within me lurks a reactionary grammarian…

By: ’Deji W. Adesoye I’m not hermit Don’t dwell in shell But failing in the gist and jest Nay, which authentic life ne’er permit I do not babble along these corridors Peep and play and in sanctum retire For my soul…

By: ’Deji W. Adesoye When I have a drive to know the world, I look into myself. For to search the mystery of the world, Is to search the heart thereof. And this treasure lay nowhere in the ether, aqueous, or…

By:  Chandra Shekhar Dubey We stalk around red lights, pavements Metro stops in rough and fine weather Carrying our bulging bags like boiling Carbuncles on our bodies all in hope of two bare meals. Pitiless gazes, venomous spits greet us…