After The Breath is Music

by Hazel J. Hall he sits atthe edge of his stool. atthe end of things.a tumultuous tower beforethe edge of void, pressing in;a piano key hit beforethe void of whatwe do not know. every sightto be seen stares back at us now.him pressing those keys,playing piano, head tossed back&gazing up to sky&&&and seeing&our lasting resonanceour … Continue reading After The Breath is Music

Heat Death

by Hazel J. Hall we are a high school, honey-love crush,terribly beautiful at ourtipping point to the contact.staring into abyssal zones.walking on water;wading;raising generationsof fish through thisfinality. the poem steeringdirectionlessness into itsnarrative. the death ofoceans as a wicked stranglingno one wants to is all simply too eviland we are too pure to knowwhat terrible … Continue reading Heat Death


by Zach Beach Occasionally,we hurt. Our boss berates usand we die, a little. We become so smalland want to disappear into nothingness.Such is the ego-trap of thoughts. While the depths of the heart calls to us,the music of the soul whispers to us, the connection of spirit beckons us,and the calm of the sea sings … Continue reading Depths

The Beginning

by Zach Beach a spiraling umbilical cordfastens you to the beginningof time inside this shell of the universewe are infinity mirrorsof blood darkness broughtgrey skiesand white light awakening here (you realize)the only work leftto do is love&& Zach Beach Zach Beach is an internationally renowned yoga teacher, best-selling author, poet, love coach, and founder of … Continue reading The Beginning


by Sarah Mackey Kirby You caught me in the trawler of your sapphire stare. Kissed scars on battered heart that struggles more and more to beat. And blood to bleed. Where broken nights await you. This fate. This love I’ve watered till roots dug deep for you. Just in time to germinate your future. I … Continue reading Sunset


by Ed Ahern When I was fourteen there was a girl I thought was cute but never had the nerve to chase. We spent four years near but never close and thirty years in mutual ignorance. Her image lingered in what-if conjectures about who I’d guessed her to be and how we might have meshed … Continue reading Joyce