Poetry
By: Amanda Trujillo Exhaustion besieges my eyelids, first the drought officers settle into the wedges of my eye sockets. ….…The less-than ….…spaces, ….…that embrace my nasal bones. Close behind, is the cargo deputy with an ample load for my eyelids….
Literary criticismNon-Fiction
By: JD DeHart The genius that might have been Homer knew some truths about humanity. One of the primary ideas echoed in the sometimes verbal and sometimes written bard’s work is that people want others to remember them. The Iliad focuses…
Books Reviews
By: Jonathan TAN Ghee Tiong “The heat had beaten the senses out of everyone,” Ashad’s manager said after the brawl. Ashad could have knocked the man over with his knuckles. Or he could just walk away and rise above it all,…
Non-Fiction
By: William T. Hathaway From the Book RADICAL PEACE: People Refusing War The long, flouncy curls from Judy Davis’s cheerleader days are gone. Her straight blonde hair is now cut short. Large blue eyes stand out in a face pale…
Poetry
By: LeeEl Yehezkel An old house, a bad paint job, and three old men in the doorway to match; George, Joseph, and Eli. Around them, a children’s soccer game is in motion, and their joking threats escape into the air….
Poetry
By: Shagnik Saha I can’t see, fragile sepals shroud me, Wisps of the sun I glimpse, I hear the tumult, distant melody, Unlike the calm inside, suffocating insanity, There is so much to do, So much to be, All, If I’ll…
Poetry
By: Natana Vasuki Faces! Faces! Pervasive in the world Feed my sight every day Gentle like frolicking lambs Invite attention with their sweet innocence Ferocious like majestic tigers Ready to threaten with their powerful symmetry Jaunty, amiable and ebullient Serve…
Literary criticism
By: JT Torres Oral traditions, especially those complicated by diaspora, typically retain shared levels of discourse by syncretizing the subjugated with the predominant aesthetics. By adopting methods popular with the oppressors, the oppressed preserve the forms and conventions necessary to…
Poetry
By: James G. Piatt There are images within my weary mind, Like the tide rising from the cobalt deep, Illuminating tenacious absurdities that I find, Stirring in deep nomadic longings, as I sleep. …..How do I gain an entrée to a…
Poetry
By: James G. Piatt He is a divided self, Divergent egos with flights Into memories without maps, Detached, intoxicated with his Own importance: He is at war with himself, In a metaphysical battle Against unfathomable enigmas, He exists between reality and…