english

poem by James G. Piatt

Being   Being is. Being is in-itself. Being is what it is. | Jean-Paul Sartre                                                                                                                       Inhaling the last breath of the day’s dwindling hours, an aging man’s

The Present

by Kevin Johnson Murillo I watch the room by candlelight. The sounds are gone. Only echoes of shadows are left on the blinds to keep out the light from inside the room. Occasional footsteps outside the room in the hall connecting it to other rooms. I hope not to encounter any of those beasts tonight.

Piecemeal

by Simon Covey I captured a memory in an empty mezcal bottle. I watched it crawl around the bottle tapping the glass with its mantis like claws. Hell was a state of mind, and I was in mine. My friend had came to Des Moines for the weekend… we were going to have a guy’s […]

Fishing for a Connection

by Douglas Young      Before the plane took off, a stewardess stood in the aisle explaining in a bored monotone what to do “in the highly unlikely event of an emergency.” Addison Armistead contemplated whether he preferred to survive should the plane crash. After such a pleasant stay at the conference in New Mexico where […]

The Story An Addict Me Can Tell.

by Sharafadeen Muhsinah  It was night and I already ate my dinner while I was ready to pray my last Rakats (obligatory prayer) for the day when I stumbled on a post of one my seniors in the university who studies nursing and was just posted to “ARO” for one of her practicals. The status […]

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