A New Community of Writers
Some freaks sleep when they go to bed. No tossing and turning. No dread. No rehashing bad choices and personal humiliations. No plotting endless revenge.
Such monsters can’t be trusted. They inevitably have parents they admire, who are their best friends, who never spanked or raised their voices, and collected spare bikes from the town dump and fixed them up for needy kids, thereby teaching their unicorn children both the zen of bicycle maintenance and the grace of generosity and philanthropy.
“Phil, I’m getting fearfully hungry. When are we going to strike civilization?”
Her small chest woke her. The heart rattling inside it. Like an alarm clock palpitating in secrecy, until the time came that she could no longer ignore it. She searched for the key in her pocket
I spent fifteen years celebrating Christmas in share-houses around Brisbane, Australia. As a poor student, I rented rundown Queenslanders with two, three or four friends, so I could still afford food after rent and bills. I rode my bicycle to uni, work or the grocery shop
Megan Denese Mealor echoes and erases in her native land of Jacksonville, Florida. A survivor of bipolar disorder, she incorporates her kaleidoscopic emotions and manic fire into her writing. Her poetry and short stories have been published worldwide, most recently in Spillwords, Ginosko Literary Journal, and The Stray Branch.
Manny drove through the night on a narrow highway that curved constantly to the right, threading its way through a forest. The trees hung low over the tarmac like they wanted to take back every square inch.
Miss Verse is a professional dancer, artists and poet. You can read more of her work on Twitter at @MissVerse_
A soul made of words nestling in a mortal body – Esha and her incandescent love for poems is ancient and sacrosanct. She has crocheted her irenic words into fine fabric of love, cosmos, power of SHE and mirabilia. Come and celebrate poetry through her words and behold them bloom in sequestered splendour
Gray morning. The clouds did not lift as the forecast had predicted. I spent a sleepless night because I drank a cup of a strong black tea earlier in the evening. I look at my watch on the nightstand; it shows nine o’clock. I am cold and trying to get warm under a lightweight summer blanket.
Sarahmour is the pen name of a whimsical soul who has a love affair with words. In her writing you can expect to find everything from love, loss, romance, and the darker shades of passion and desire.
You can read more by adivayeatts at her Twitter: @adivayeatts
Anne is the pen name of a lost poet. She loves working out with weights and words. She writes about sexy corsets, darkness, and everything in between
Four volumes of Louis Gallo’s poetry, Archaeology, Scherzo Furiant, Crash and Clearing the Attic, are now available. Why is there Something Rather than Nothing? and Leeway & Advent will be published soon. His work appears in Best Short Fiction 2020. A novella, “The Art Deco Lung,” will soon be published in Storylandia.
Sylvia Ashby published a lot of poetry (CONSTELLATIONS, MEZZO CAMMIN, EARTH’S DAUGHTERS, etc.). Then she returned to her first love–theatre, acting and writing.
Herb Shippey is retired from full-time teaching at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College in Tifton, GA, but still teaches American Literature and freshman writing part-time. His book Flying with the Spooks: Memoir of a Navy Linguist
