Early Morning, Paknajol by Lee Daniels A bell is ringing For someone’s first puja. And meanwhile I Am making a prayer Of my own: A meditation on the sounds of Daybreak: The cawing of crows, Rain falling, A hammer, A broom’s sweeping in The street, A saw, The babbling of A baby. The salamandrine glow […]
Stories and Poems
A Narrow Bridge by Avital Gad-Cykman
I’ve sang this ancient song in moments my mouth started singing on its own, and I listened with interest to learn what would come out of it.
A Suitcase Full of Mirrors
Carol Stewart is a mother and grandmother living in the Scottish Borders. A former freelance editor, her poems have recently been published in 404 Ink, That (Literary Review) and Abstract: Contemporary Expressions.
Gravity by Phebe Jewell
When I tell him autumn tastes like apples, he brings me a bright red delicious the next day, pressing it into my hand without a word.
The Tattoo by Michael Clark
Shanika had known him since she was 12. She always thought that she hated him.
Poem: Communion by CJ Landry
Occasional writer, often wanderer, horrible speller, broken thinker,
incessant lover of all things ineffable, neutral evil and serious
about it.
Returning to Paradise
Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee is a poet and writer. His poems have appeared in World Literature Today, Rattle, The London Magazine, New Welsh Review, Mudlark, Acumen, Hobart, Glass: A Review of Poetry, and other publications. His first collection of poetry, Ghalib’s Tomb and Other Poems (2013)
Transit and Transients: Las Vegas
A familiar face entered the bus, bending like a willow tree reaching for water. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a wad of bills, slipping a $20.00 into the fare machine. “Gimme a day pass and keep the change.”
Blue
I just saw Dr. Mason. Now I know. It’s all happening too fast. Just two weeks ago, I finished training for our town’s Volunteer Fire Department. That’s when we got a call. My first. A house on fire. Neighbors said there were still people in there. We went in as best we could through the […]
Arithmetic
Arithmetic by Pat Raia A dozen misunderstandings at least one hundred slights Thousands of small indignities that can’t be overlooked – A million brand new chances to get to alright – Your heart is no accountant – but mine is Like this Post 0