Fiction
Poetry
Treading The Fire
maybe beauty will remain an abstract dirge; a mantra to be ruminated over like a submerged leek becoming tender in warm water. as it seems
Dr. Ernest Williamson III
Short Story
Paper Boat
Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace,
Rochelle Potkar
Short Story
The Solution
I talk to myself. I have to. No one else will listen. No one else understands. Even if they did, I wouldn’t dare expose
Kuo
Poetry
The Day of Our Meeting
I dreamed of the day, In the dead of winter, A dreary day, When I’d step off the train And see you there- The day
Amara Nova
Short Story
For Matthew
Today I am thinking of you and Michigan. Remember how back in the day I didn’t drink coffee? Well, I still don’t care for it
Jack C. Buck
Short Story
A New World
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
