writing

Nicole Sara What is a promise, a dream?What is a hope or desire?What is a heart’s burning flamesetting all senseson fire? What is the mind’sadventureand which is the soul’s sweet ease?What if the life’s sole purposeis being caressed by the breeze… Do days always reach for remotenessand dawns always shine so divinecasting far chime over… Continue reading

Melissa Lemay it’s been three weeksi still haven’t changed the sheets on my bed,i’ve barely changed my clothes i wonder what was real,if i’m real,sitting in this apartment with this fake wood flooring and the linoleum tile with the diamonds on iti listen to the sound of water drippingeverything was wet i know my bedroom… Continue reading

Frank Johnson Now everybody’s staring at a screenit seems a simple fact of modern lifethat real life’s left for living in between. Sometimes despite the wonders of ITit looks less of a blessing than a blightwhen everybody’s staring at a screen for world-wide web can all too easily meanthere’s world-wide room for wrong as well… Continue reading

Brent Boeckman Standing in the shrapnel of a former world,despite the constant shore, failing and falling away.The call, heavy, carrying the dull, metallic scentof a fierce fight lost—the quiet ruin when every effort is given,yet the whole thing collapses. Underneath the chaos, the governing law revealed:a silent, binding contract signed decades ago,mandating the role as… Continue reading

Kate Bremer I took down the sparkle-lines–Severe drought, Red Flag warningsFor two trees, for Faeries, for Light;Fill up water bottles and charge devices. Severe drought, Red Flag conditions–Jacob’s Well has dried up.Fill water bottles and charge devicesWhere’s the manna, the talking cloud ? Jacob’s Well has dried upFor two trees, for Faeries, for Light–Where’s the… Continue reading

Paul Cannon When the insistentdull roar of theworld reachesmurderous crescendoin my body,its long knives piercing,I take my wounded selfalong bush pathsfolding into nature,just for my soul,spice under my tongue,I hear the musicality,see the intricatebrush strokes, feelevery sheaf of poetrythat flutters orrustles nearby,and slowly Icome back intomy body. Paul Cannon is a poet who contemplates the… Continue reading

Kim Whysall-Hammond Bury it deep, weepif you need. Plead with yourself. Elseyou lose your mind. Discover what you can do. Youare a fluttering bird, who once flew. Take joy in a friend, end your despair, airyour burdened soul. Rollwith the glorious world. Unfurl. Kim Whysall-Hammond is a Londoner who now lives in the English countryside.… Continue reading

Audrey Howitt I tape over my cracked edges.The memoriesthe smellsthe wantingwhat I can’t have. There is always that.A hole I can’t fillthat pulls those edges apart.And every day, I sit in itlet it unfold me, just under the skinuntil the angles need mending again.I tell them it will be ok,that they will see the sunthe… Continue reading

Merril D. Smith Leaves, rain, night,a bullet-ripped child— so many things fall,are falling— the crows, black-winged tocsins,sound warnings, but it’sthe geese I observe— the parents still guardingtheir almost-grown goslings, the way they listen for the call to flythen take turns leading. I watch them soar,hear the wind-flap of their wings— I’m not starving, nor beaten,nor… Continue reading