Two sides to my waking I awake in the room next to your sick-bed. Through the thin wall, I hear grunting sounds, sandpaper coughs, your rough imitation of your own voice.
by Douglas Young Julissa Ye relished all the comfortable little routines and quietude defining her part-time job at The Bookery, downtown’s last small, locally owned bookstore. As much as she enjoyed the excitement of the college social scene, working at The Bookery provided a tranquil respite from the other rooms of her life […]
December 14th 1922
by Elinora Westfall London. Spread across the dining room table, the newspaper is dissected, absorbed, and devoured voraciously. This rag, running necklaces of dirty type that smudges fingertips, this dirty Herald, the only touchstone with the world outside Bloomsbury Square. Today the paper tantalises with a headline on a comet streaking through the southern hemisphere; […]
In Bad Faith
by Jeff Helgeson The windows across the room were dark. Don Stryker could see himself in them, surrounded by light coming from a chrome-plated lamp above his head, his reflection abruptly blocked by a white stone gargoyle his wife had bought and set at a carefully chosen angle among some leafy plants she had […]
poems by Andrew Najberg
Twenty first century headlines This story like many stories starts with a bullet and ends with tears and justice deferred
poems by Anna Idelevich
Fiberglass sandwich Inflated invalids clouds in mind mutilation cry, ides March did not take offences. and fatal events did not happen.
poems by Mark Antony Rossi
Soma and the Unknowing Slave I grew up with Huxley tucked in my heart His brave new world was orderly Next to degrading urban decay.
The Goldilocks Principle
by Zary Fekete The story of how Goldilocks actually came to the bears’ house has been misunderstood and requires attention. It might also help to know that Goldilocks isn’t her real name. She has a variety of other names, like Stefanie and Abigail, and it is easy to overlook the fact that she is actually […]
poems by Johnpaul Simiyu
Requiem For A King When I first stumbled upon Martin Luther King Jr., I was black. My mother was not in the kitchen.
poems by A.J. Huffman
Blood on the Moon Lightning erupts, whitewashing midnight sky. Blinded, the clouds retreat to re-gather their nighted senses. In that moment, a world is born. Celestial bodies caught in spotlight’s beam mutate into conglomerations of each other.