poems by Moldvai Barna
emptiness what a prologue seems like is a canvas painted on the knife who knows if it’s real or just a haze inside are two…
emptiness what a prologue seems like is a canvas painted on the knife who knows if it’s real or just a haze inside are two…
by Mario Șerban The limit of pain is just a greater pain and so on. Maximum pain is a myth. So, what’s the point of…
History Repeats I sat out on the sun deck watching history repeat itself. My next-door neighbor left for work. His kids headed off to…
by Z. I. Sadeq 1 Behold me!– Cowards and last men! It is me, the not-man. My soul is marked
Fries I’m gonna take a great time talking about fries And nothing else Fries – meaningless, right? But doesn’t it soothe you?
A cabin fire. from the window, behind curtains, rain cracks like logs in a cabin-grate
by Colin James The neglected house was visible only from above. Perfect for a bird
Winter Carousel If I crack open an imported coconut & carousel horses stream out like gold embossed milk. If I sip the milk-paint from…
My Wife and I at the Symphony Five women in the orchestra, she counts them like the conductor counts time. Two violin, one cello,…
by Z. I. Sadeq In the mist of emerald forests, Upon banks of crimson creeks, Beneath limbs of yellow tulipwood, At the foot of smoky…