Comptine d’un autre automne

by Marius Surleac I run over the seas and dive in the skylines burnt by the fires of hell the night that will come with…


by Marius Surleac today dig under me with your bare hands until you’ll pass the ribs you’ll lose half of your soul the blood will…


by Marius Surleac rest your wounds in my shelter tomorrow when I’ll have to die you shall give me a kiss

Still life

by Marius Surleac through dice the six-shooter gleams at the burnt end of the bullet at the other end, like in a comet tale, blood…

Pestis vetus

by Marius Surleac hell is beyond the grey blocks – the desert where no human skeletons resisted to erosion, but became part of

The Europe from and among Us

by iQ666 Each of us has a certain image about Europe. Some think of the continent, others’ thoughts go towards the European Union, there are…


by Adrian Ioniţă (USA) Translation from Romanian by Manuela Cazan pentru versiunea română click aici     It’s funny to watch the world from above, looking through…


Karel Cispic:
A chuckle died in his throat as he realized fully what he was about to do. Shovel after shovel of dried dirt flew in back of him until the magic moment when he hit wood. He could tell by the solid thudding sound that metal made against wood. It was a satisfying sound. An organic sound. Thud, thump. Thump, thump. He used the blade of the shovel to pry open the casket. No smell came out, but the sight was not a pleasant one. Pavel’s emaciated and very dead face had a rictus grin that sent a fright up Karel’s spine. The dead poet seemed to be smiling at him.

Fat Man

by Robert Fenhagen (USA)   Brief news story out of Wakefield, R.I.:  “A flight out of Warwick Airport made it safely through a ferocious storm….