The Storm

by Melissa Chappell Upon his bed of white linen, he laid me down. I was beneath him when the sun looked upon us with its jealous eye through the polished window panes. His hands were praising me, when the stratus clouds stretched over the sun’s burnished light, denying it glory. My mouth was seeking the … Continue reading The Storm

Sea of Dreams

by RC deWinter i live for night impatient for its swallowing the unlovely glare of day that endless maze of corners round which nothing waits but contours of routine the shuttering of eyes (my escape clause from the pitiless directives of the day) and then the slide into the sea of dreams where guiltless blameless … Continue reading Sea of Dreams

Of Dreams and Eulogy

by Nisarga Sinha Ours is a Winter love story.My messy bun,your midnight laughterandstars.I have been visitingthe stars on my terraceof late.Andthe Nebulaerupting from the dead lilacs.The heavy tinge of forgetfulnessrunning through my veinsand the evening street.Yesterday,I saw J. Alfred. Prufrockand the unfinished poemof Eliot’s oblivion,laughing together, singing what they could have been,andGoing to Bob Dylanto … Continue reading Of Dreams and Eulogy


by Paul Robert Mullen the continents have become small strides i have trembled upon peaks breathed the darkness of lairs untouched witnessed the peace of dawn skimming dampness off the clouds with wings bound for something / somewhere pierced the hum and haze of a thousand cities with hardened feet and softened mind i have … Continue reading Unreachable

Portrait of Wasps

by Mateo Lara we are not saved, trapped in the nest cradling arms, us, crawling with rage, twitching alive tucked together, neatly in rows, made into a bed. our buzzing was no warning it was a reminder that building community would find you blistering and needing reminders of safety, poking your gut hazily flapping translucent, … Continue reading Portrait of Wasps


by Rebecca Ruth Gould The girl who invited me to live in her tent camp so she could teach me Chechen sat staring in the corner, fearing that any motion might trigger an explosion. Grozny’s flats were levelled. Dolls lay disembowelled on the floor. Glass shards covered the earth. The road’s yellow ribbon rolled like … Continue reading Gronzy


Memories by Kathleen O’Neil
This translucent organza covers my skin like snow;
the innermost part of me is burning away. It just smolders. Oxygen, the air, it’s everywhere. The cold poison will seep down through soft delicate shoulder, under the left collarbone edge through bone and the shield of muscle.

Continue reading Memories