Fiction
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
Fiction
After the Earthquake
At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.
Carl Boon
Poetry
Antagonistic Environment
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
Poetry
Early Morning Ramblings of a Twenty-Something Girl
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
Fiction
Only the Good Parts Left
Angie was the type of car people kept in antique store backyards ‘cause they thought she looked cool, “There ain’t nothing like a Classic Chevy.”
Elise Kelly
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