Author: Lion and Lilac
Only The Gods Know | Abu Ibrahim | Poetry
Three Poems | Edward Lee
Three Poems | Leslie Dianne
Dear Earth Dear Earth: your daffodils are just buds today shrinking from the frost digging their roots into you for comfort leaning into the grass blanketed by the breeze The shouts of children and a jaybird’s song weave through the air and hover above the beginning bloom of your soon to be flowers […]
He’s Not Coming Tonight | Dillon Rouse | Play
Cast of Characters ALICE: Female. 12-15 years of age. The oldest sibling. A realist. Loves the holidays except for tonight. However, she tries to keep the Christmas spirit for her little sister Anahi. Alice battles with resentment towards her parents but doesn’t know how to control them. (Open Ethnicity) ANAHI: Female. 8-9 years of age. […]
Why I should go to Stratford | M Sean Dowd | Sonnet | Poetry
Au Fond du Minervois | Charles Tarlton | Poetry
O direction and pomposity! Near the stony city of Minerve where ripe figs fall to the sidewalk for anyone to gather and eat and the mysteries of life and death were all erased like chalk marks from a blackboard, by consecutive rifle shots that killed exactly two birds (somehow that second bird had failed to fly […]
Pals | M Sean Dowd | One Act Play
Act I Scene III The Three Witches Portend What is to Come Dedicated to “PALS,” the Preservation of Agricultural Lands Society originally established to save lands in the Niagara Fruit Belt and now growing in Southern China and Batam Island. Witch 1 When shall we greet greed again? When gardens gone they know […]
BARABBAS | Tom Byrne | One Act Play
It is the evening before their crucifixion. Sling and Smiley (who never smiles) stare forward and Jesse is in a corner deep in prayer. Their dungeon is forbidding. The formal names of these men are Saul ben Isaac (Sling), Ezra ben Abraham (Smiley), and Jeshua ben Joseph (Jesse/Jesus). Sling This can’t be! I’m remembering […]
Three Poems| John Grey
ABANDONED NEW HAMPSHIRE FARMHOUSE Forest devours wood like a crow feasting on road-kill, clapboard and stump, press-ganged into the cause of future trees. Even fireplace bricks, hard as farmers, mulch their way to rain-pocked clay. The garden has eloped with wildflowers. Fence posts dig their own grave. Only glass and metal take […]
Four Poems| Michael Brockley
Bob Dylan’s Harmonica Speaks Its Mind Hohner, here, you stallions and fillies. Harp’ll do too. If my voice sounds like cinders rattling off the undercarriage of a train, I spent the last fifty years sucking Chesterfield smokes and Camel breath. At least during those times when Grunt weren’t blowin’ electric on “Tangled Up in […]