by RC deWinter my life is a grimoire scribed in invisible ink on vellum that crumbles at a touch unreadable and even if it were you wouldn’t want to a history of wrong choice attributable […]
Dream Noir
literary + art magazine
Four Poems
by Birdy Asya We are inventive people. Funny robbers. Little pirates. I hide behind the bushes And giggle softly. Childhood. I read fairy tales to people at night. They are asking. I am stroking hands […]
The Huntsman
by Norman Belanger Once upon a time, he was somebody’s little darling, today he was nothing to nobody. I knew details about the kid I was to take into the woods, a lad who stole […]
Art by Jury S. Judge
Jury S. Judge is an internationally published artist, writer, poet, photographer, and cartoonist. Her “Astronomy Comedy” cartoons are published in the Lowell Observer. Her artwork has been published in literary magazines such as, “Amsterdam […]
cul-de-sac
by RC deWinter as i sit in the bitter wind of a place I never thought could exist i contemplate the nature of mortality. can the mind survive without feeling? is there really a soul, […]
Guilt Study
by Philip Berry eighteen eyes on me now lids closing like they’re ready to pray craters in the wall, bleeding brick dust, leaking sideways in the evening breeze gun spray in a border town for […]
Stages
by Philip Berry transition sleep flows beneath the streets. streams weave without direction. colours churn, ripples glisten, unfinished plots move near edges ready to dissolve in dawn’s pale light the insomniac hears the trickle & […]
In the Brick
by Philip Berry in thirty sentient years the tide has ridden the quay forty thousand times the stone in the brick &containing the promise I set remains unchanged seamless heart &prize unseen i do not […]
1984
by DC Diamondopolous James, as the doctors and staff at St. Mark’s Regional Hospital in San Diego insisted on calling him, applied pancake make-up over the band-aid camouflaging the skin lesion on his chin. He […]
Fear Is Constrained Like a Title
by Parker G. Jamieson September sunset— Please, call me when you get home— backroom dial tone. No—I remember the long morning, you took straw and sculpted a sun. Footsteps in the hall— The fiery […]
