Fiction

Poetry

Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of

Jacquie Wyatt

Poetry

Coincidence did not cause the young man’s cheek to share the curve of mine in his gray, buttered face. His finger-combed hair wet with grease,

Jake Teeny

Short Story

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

Fiction

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

Constance L. Lieber

Poetry

Floral straight jackets hiding women
It’s too pretty to get dirty.

Neth Brown

Fiction

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

Warren P. Genesis