poems by Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu

The Watchmaker’s Song   I. The first dream and the first chant of the young watchmaker It is only this wind’s chant Steeping deep in my ears The enchanting flowers blooming far away The chant of the virgins from the sapphire kingdom, The chant of old clocks with gold wheels,

poems by Holly Day

            Arrogance   it ought to have altered my existence. I observed him bent above his composition, hours consumed informing minuscule granules of tinted sand of his convoluted plans on the soil, sketching cobalt flowers, scarlet flowers, a single colossal blossom obscuring the dried, packed earth. It was so lovely,


de Mario Șerban This is a narration of my self-induced dreaming experiment. Over the past few days, I have been experiencing several episodes of lucid dreaming. As if there is another accessible reality where I can jump whenever I desire. For my sanity and own literary interest, I have decided to keep a record of […]

Another Haunted House

 by Oana Celia Gheorghiu Neither here, nor there. Her here is not where she is. She is there only because acted like you didn’t want her here. She thought that she needed a somewhere. An anywhere. Across felt like ersatz back then. It feels like darkness now. Mind void. She took what was given to […]

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