Fiction
Poetry
Ca’Venezia: Your Voice
Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter
Robert Eric Shoemaker
Poetry
Hurricane
hurricane Syllables [hur-i-keyn, huhr– or, esp. British, -kuh n] –noun After a couple weeks sentence of staying in some foreign place with trees, she came back home and Miami
Christell Roach
Short Story
Fall Cranes
Back home, my sister’s bedroom overlooked our back deck. She could climb out her windowsill and drop down a few feet onto the wooden planks
Allison Sobczak
Short Story
The Beach
The city centre fast food restaurant, part of a chain known across the world, was empty when the young couple entered. They paused to survey
John Butterfield
Fiction
Persistence, Memory, Time
Have you ever met someone who makes you question everything you’ve ever wanted?
Kelly Dasta