Category: Poetry
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This I have seen…by G. Mramor
You people, your beliefs are terrifying, you see skin before you look into the eyes you say other before you listen to them speak, and you bring tears to your children, fore you are a shame in your children’s eyes, they, when they have words for tears, when they have words their own, when they…
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House Sweet House – Poem by J.Gawrych
defeat names itself in the dustballs in dark corners in dark halls, croons with the creaking of floor boards amongst the loudest silence and absence of breath, whilst the October howls lace themselves along windows that echo sweet void into the rooms. a solitary light flickers on the abandoned porch, a beacon for nothing. nothing…
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I run I jump I fly…by G. Mramor
And watch earthsway as you longaway
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Grave Etchings – Prose Submission by C Duncanson
Cassie Duncanson is a student in Western Massachusetts studying English and Art History. She bakes like a 50’s housewife, and has a film camera I don’t use often enough because film is expensive. She works on an island off the coast of New Hampshire during the summers. Grave Etchings
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On desolation’s shore…by G. Mramor
I. ghosts I recall your ascension to the sun, and your return a ghost, you came to me on that shore recounting desolations and sand, and you watched me wrecked flotsam from a heart’s disappearance in the opal sea and you did nothing as fear and hatred dragged me down, and here am I, here are…
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Ram Island, 18:17, Thursday – Poetry Submission by M. Bowen
Matti Bowen is a graduate of Binghamton University, where she studied English and Cinema. A self confessed Knowledge Omnivore, she revels in the richness of human expression found in everything from blog culture, to science fiction, to home improvement television and Melville. She currently lives in the north Hudson Valley with her dog and far…
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Thoughts About Boeings – Poem by J.Gawrych
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On Opening Your Diploma – a Poem by K. Alabi
Did you expect the scrolls of some dead sea deciphered? annotated with that destiny you guessed into yourself? Did you expect an arrow, thin as a vein, revealing to your blood in which direction it should run Or perhaps a small god adorning you with the wisdom of a dying whisper as you crush it…
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The Funeral by B. Bullock
The procession had just started and already I could taste it, already, it was turning my stomach and expelling my hunger like an ocean would if I were rocking against its waves. I watched the sons, the brothers, the daughters, the wife make her way down the aisle, walking slow and careful like they were…
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Emma…by G. Mramor
His hands came to rest on her bare shoulders
