By: Dan Flore III MY BUDDY, PTSD the good ol’ PTSD flashback camelike a piece of shattered iceI was getting changedgetting everything out of my pocketswhen suddenly I was standingin front of thatstupid hospital security guardwho stood like Herculeswith a…

By Hema Ravi Chinstrap penguins fulfil sleep in short bursts: ‘nod off’for about four seconds each time, such a trait evolved to remainvigilant as a lone parent left to guard the nest against predators,to care for offspring when the other…

By: Geoffrey Heptonstall ONE OF MANY THINGS The singers walk out of the futurewhere music flows in crystalline streams.The scene is sketched in vivid outline,later to be painted as it should bein a paradise of charms. And down from the…

By: Mike Nolan I’m standing looking out the window, thoughts far away, when my phone rings. My mother. I know it will frustrate her, but I don’t answer. Whatever her reason for calling, somewhere in the conversation she’ll ask if…

By: J.K. Durick Now Online Everything, everyone in line is onlinedealt with in a click.PIN numbers, usernames remembered,filled in or forgotten,account numbers, then totals.It’s a matter of the numberswe translate ourselves into.It’s the easy to recall password.A shorthand shortcut that…

By: Ken Poyner ADAPTABLY MORAL I work at the playground mine factory. Assembly line work, and I have no idea how many stations there are before or after mine. By the time a mine reaches me, it has already started…

By: Jim Brosnan Forever Daydreaming It’s almost eightas I barrel pastwaves of corn rows,the July sunsetsplashing the Kansassky in strawberryswirls, the longshadows of eveningstretched acrossbroken white lineson the interstate.I listen to oldieson the truck radio,harmonize with Elvis,familiar lyrical linesI sing…

By: Susan Mayer Brumel Goose and Fish Sometimes, I succumbto suffocating sadnessthat force-feedsmy heartmy soulmy madness The goose. Salmon river-racethrough my veins –the pressure pains And I am that forsaken fish:stuffed withvulnerability and fearsingled out—and eaten by a bear. The…

By Taylor Dibbert He’s justThrown awayLondon’s pinkDoggy bed,His wee LondonPassed awayA little moreThan aYear ago,He’s not ableTo putWhat he’s feelingInto words. ### Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “Rescue Dog,” his fourth full-length poetry collection,…

By: Stanka Bajlozova-Barlamova      She often saw the deformed open mouths of her patients in her dreams. The most distorted faces, she remembered of patients whose medical instructions were a diagnosis: extraction. Of all possible dental activities and interventions, tooth…