Fiction

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

Warren P. Genesis

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

Short Story

While he sleeps I catalogue his body. When he is awake I keep my distance. While he dreams I touch and map in a

A.J. Whitaker

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

Poetry

A dream of a 1920s quasi-candid shot of Debby Harry, mingling graciously among a grandiose Studio 54 scene. Spray the lens of my life with

Suzanne McHeffey

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