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

Essays

Have you ever wanted to see a time-travelling lone wolf cop (“I’m a cop. From the future.”) crotch punch Hitler (a.k.a. Kung Führer) in an

Glen Porter

Fiction

I am in denial. Two pink lines.

Jessica Vergara

Short Story

Bloated clouds float above the prison, obscuring the sun. I linger outside the narrow cell window, which is no more than a barred gap in

Eileen Herbert-Goodall

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

Confessional

I thought of someone else while I kissed my boyfriend. “I did that once,” I said. “Oh no you didn’t.” said Heather. She’s the girl

Kelly Anderson