Fiction
Poetry
Cold Lights
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
Short Story
Destination Zero
It’s been 6 months, 13 days and 4 hours since I last weighed myself. I hid the scales in a plastic bag under some books
Dominic Brancaleone
Fiction
What I Can No Longer See
“I’m thankful I’m not a horse,” Marla says, as she reaches for the saltine sleeve inside her tote bag.
Amy Lerman
Fiction
Dear Spec
___The featured image accompanying this piece, entitled ‘Spectrum’, has been used with the permission of artist, Robert Alan, a mixed media artist from New York
Lucy Holden
Short Story
At the Beach
It was difficult getting everything together but she wanted to do it for Yacov. The jaundice had left her weak, drained, and the enervating
Edmund Jonah