Fiction

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

Constance L. Lieber

Memoirs

The day after my mother’s funeral I called Comcast to cancel her cable TV account. A recorded message led me through a series of

Thomas Sullivan

Poetry

The thunder polka of a new romance Began today on my left foot, the one Believed to lead suggestiveness astray. True love’s a waltz: it’s

LindaAnn Loschiavo

Poetry

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

Poetry

In our attic, among things, as it seems of past lives, lives a bitter God. When guests come to our house, we don’t mention him.

Ernad Osmic

Short Story

When Frances had to speak publicly, her legs shook. As a kid, she had grown faster up than she had out and she had felt

Kyra Baldwin