Fiction

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

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

There were times when it seemed like all the beauty was sucked out of my life. This was one of them. It was cold and

Allison Whittenberg

Fiction

“I’m thankful I’m not a horse,” Marla says, as she reaches for the saltine sleeve inside her tote bag.

Amy Lerman

Fiction

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

Constance L. Lieber