Fiction

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

Constance L. Lieber

Fiction

“I’m thankful I’m not a horse,” Marla says, as she reaches for the saltine sleeve inside her tote bag.

Amy Lerman

Poetry

I’d rather be a collapsed flower drenched in rainwater; succumbed to the well where wishes weld winning whims. though not alone as the barren heart

Dr. Ernest Williamson III

Fiction

I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.

Warren P. Genesis

Short Story

It’ll be a Wednesday. It’ll be cloudy outside. There will be fog creeping over the ravine and remnants of an early-morning rain still drifting

Dorcy Jaffray

Poetry

Outside my window there is steam
and there are lights in a skyscraper
where people sit at their desks
and the lights let them work.

Alan S. Kleiman