• My Parents Have Always Fought

    My Parents Have Always Fought

    by Sage Leona Artist: Sohei Szincza My parents have always fought. Mentally, verbally, physically. All of my memories of my entire first fifteen years of life are entwined with horror stories of their annoyances which turned into disagreements always becoming an argument and usually escalating into a fight.The fights never seemed to end, they lasted…

  • Two Poems

    Two Poems

    Yuan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving China. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include Pushcart nominations, Best of the Best Canadian Poetry and BestNewPoemsOnline, among others.

  • Two Poems

    Two Poems

    by Alan Parry Pallbeareri’ll always be grateful todad for allowing me the freedomto say no, i’m not comfortable with that Last Wishi yearn to die in the dark unseen until mornin’. Alan Parry Alan Parry is a poet and playwright from Merseyside, England. He is an English Literature graduate and will train to teach high…

  • Family History: When the Past Remains a Secret

    Family History: When the Past Remains a Secret

    by Allison Palmer Artist: Kadir Nelson With the rise of DNA testing technology, we find a host of new issues about genealogy beginning to emerge. Among them are problems regarding actual proof of lineage, how genetic information is gathered and analyzed, and the reliability of testing companies, in particular, the ones most famous for generating…

  • Dorothy Parker

    Dorothy Parker

    by Jason Graff Dorothy Parker was funny in a cruel way which I think made us like her all the more, especially mother, who saw herself as some gutsy, wise, old truth teller of the old school. Now it’s really easy to see she was just mean and unhappy, possibly with us; definitely with father…

  • Bau


    by Grace Yannotta Artist: John Truck The dog sits in the corner of the room. She looks like one of those pharaoh dogs, Suze thinks, the lithe golden body, the sharp ears, the keen dark eyes. The ones that line the tombs of the olden kings. The protectors. She knows she’s not supposed to stare,…

  • Forgive Us

    Forgive Us

    by Salvatore Difalco “Ma,” my sister said, “we’re taking you to an appointment. We have to be there at ten o’clock. Do you understand, ma?” Maria, the oldest of my cousins, had come along for support. My mother trusted her. She smiled at Maria; her eyes looked bluer than usual that day, eyes that had…