Fiction

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

Amy Lerman

Fiction

At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.

Carl Boon

Fiction

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

Warren P. Genesis

Poetry

I miss your coffee-covered breath, Early in the morning. It made me hungrier than death For a thrill without a warning. I miss your sweet

Saira Danielle

Poetry

In love with dismal days, he told me why: Won by dimensions, his green eyes caress Big bosomed clouds. Suggestiveness of haze Conjures up Milky

LindaAnn Loschiavo

Fiction

My first real breath of air smells of pine and woodsmoke. It comes to me on a cool breeze, mid-afternoon, a sunny day that

Emma Kath Cullen