Fiction

Short Story

Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace,

Rochelle Potkar

Short Story

I can feel the evening sun, warm on my face, but the chill of the wind coaxes me to pull my coat tighter around me.

Debi Crouson

Poetry

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

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

Poetry

I miss your coffee-covered breath, Early in the morning. It made me hungrier than death For a thrill without a warning. I miss your sweet

Saira Danielle

Fiction

At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.

Carl Boon