Tag: Issue 14
Le Marais | Stephen House | Poetry
her voice caresses my moment and i snap too – shaken back from the fog to this moment in Le Marais, where i have stopped my never-ending pacing, my foot peeling mind numbing crawl, all day and into the dawn. and she continues in words i can’t grip but should. i’ve been here awhile now […]
Only The Gods Know | Abu Ibrahim | Poetry
I once asked my grandpa why he chose to be an atheist I wondered because he seemed like someone kissed by the gods His body elevated from the chair, and then he said, “When the slave masters came, my father held tight to his gods How could the gods betray him? That morning, he spilled […]
Three Poems | Edward Lee
AGAIN OR NOT Memories leak from me like sweat shed through sickness alone, when once I could recall every detail of my life, good or bad. Is this getting older, or self-preservation, my present self no longer able to deal with the collected pain my dozen or so scars are solid proof of? […]
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
Of’t’ time life’s stage has cast for me sweet die Though sword play has left scars upon my flesh Yeh! Steeled of will; to stage front I’ll not shy Cry wonder star as to the babe in crèche And gold, myrrh, frankincense; will reward less Than bidding to sweet Avon’s shore, The Globe Whence called […]
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 […]