Fiction

Short Story

While he sleeps I catalogue his body. When he is awake I keep my distance. While he dreams I touch and map in a

A.J. Whitaker

Poetry

A dream of a 1920s quasi-candid shot of Debby Harry, mingling graciously among a grandiose Studio 54 scene. Spray the lens of my life with

Suzanne McHeffey

Poetry

Knows the heart ache of canaries. Hummimg bird to spilt milk No friends same dress Pearls that rarely dance Five dollar rose bouquets Without a

Neth Brown

Poetry

he swears that the desert is laughing, mocking him with the distant wail of the wind, the hoot of an owl. each spray of dry

Rachel Linton

Fiction

I have not always had my medication to protect me from epilepsy, to keep my hand steady while I handled boiling grease and kitchen

James A. Corvo

Fiction

How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?

Constance L. Lieber