poems by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
next to a burrow on this wooded bluff beside the Mississippi singing hymns of well-being for that which lives within perhaps even a goddess yes, the goddess of some small creatures
A Question Of Innocence (Answers In Gray)
by Oliviu Crâznic Coming with the resurrection, Casting spells won`t hide the sins; I`m still seeing, in my nightmare, How you’ve cut your bleeding wings.
The Red Boots of Hong Kong
by Lex Demoncock A big “Sale” sign hung in the window of the Beverly Hills Polo Club. Only a desperate social climber would want to be seen by another desperate social climber wearing that label and only in Hong Kong, that hot-house, demo-model of consumer capitalism the Brits set up to diddle the Chinese Communists. […]
poems by Ian Smith
Brochure as Memento Mori Former Calulu Post Office it says, High Ceilings. Lots of Shedding conjures a wry verb. Verandahs, Porches, twist my heart with love as artless as these framed angles are artful. Historic Old Charmer the board blares. I am up for auction, I jest, but nobody laughs.
Lovecraft’s techniques with modern storytelling
by Costi Gurgu There aren’t many Romanian horror writers. There never have been. It’s not like there wasn’t a fertile field there; because the local folklore tells a different story. But lately, the social and political realities haven’t give it much opportunity. And then, there is Oliviu Craznic. A young writer who took it upon […]
poems by Changming Yuan
[fissuring] Between two high notes The song gives a crack Long enough To allow me to enter Like a fish jumping back Into the night water
Faintless Goats
by Mitchell Grabois The sensei had given her a Buddha name: Moon Pillow, which I thought suited her pretty good, though I can’t explain why, but it had something to do with Cat Steven’s song, “Moon Shadow.” If I ever lose my mouth all my teeth go north and south If I ever lose my […]
Water Buffalo
by Mitchell Grabois 1. After Tu and I made love, I fell asleep and dreamt I was running along the edge of a swamp. I knew I should be in the trees but there I was, exposed, sloshing through mud and water. Leeches sucked the flesh of my legs chest neck. They were my confederates, […]
poems by Lana Bella
Words best left unkissed on a dry martini words best left unkissed on a dry martini, still, I will unlock my door’s latch for the woman who hid behind the Chanel red rouge, and whose lips chiseled my grief on her desert-scorched crescendos,
poems by Holly Day
Grief in Perspective we drive back from the hospital, and I can’t talk anymore, he wants to talk. I nod my head at all the appropriate moments, smile, laugh, agree. he seems happy to talk about mundane things, the weather his mother, my parents, how weird it’ll be to go back to work […]