the faces of daffodils — Rob Plath
in the cemetery walking alone i knelt down to photograph the daffodils when i heard voices “aren’t they beautiful?” it was two old ladies walking down the path behind me “yes,” i said… Continue reading
in the cemetery walking alone i knelt down to photograph the daffodils when i heard voices “aren’t they beautiful?” it was two old ladies walking down the path behind me “yes,” i said… Continue reading
A tableau before you: grey room, lone table, Dutch sparsity, and in the background, on the hook, a scarf— blaring red, abundantly, obtrusively, so (it keeps shifting, jumping form one object to another,… Continue reading
They called it the Reef of Heaven now, but Hukulban could only chuckle to herself at that description. If they only knew… They said the Lord of the Dead was said to… Continue reading
When he says he wants to see you again, it will take a moment of reorganizing your thoughts to understand that he is being propelled forward by the Steps. You are halfway up… Continue reading
I’m a dead frog and I don’t say this with any pity or understanding or shame, it’s just an observation that people seem to like us, like us a bit too much because… Continue reading
Modern lighting is only effective if we have the ability to see things artificially. If the sun isremoved from the sky by say, a large, heavily gloved hand, then life becomes completely aboutstyle.… Continue reading
Characters: Margot Wess (Fade in. Stage is a comfortable, bohemian-style apartment with a table CS, two chairs around it, an armchair SL and a fireplace UC. All materials are in in vibrant patterns… Continue reading
***Laura Minning began writing creatively at the tender age of nine. Her first poem was published by her Alma-matter in 1989, and her second received an Editor’s Choice Award by the National Library… Continue reading
Here the stone heart waits for the tug of tide, the undertow of pull,the grainy tabula rasa of mind lapped clean of conscience. Or not. Even now, seaweeds entwine; brittle entanglements rot in the sun. The dying snare… Continue reading
Thomas Wehr, “In Short Photoperiods, Human Sleep is Biphasic.” J Sleep Research, Vol. 1, 1992, pp. 103-7.Roger Ekirch. At Day’s Close: Night In Times Past. W.W. Norton, 2006. *** Sandra B. Julian, B.A.… Continue reading
***Erika Hodges is a gender expansive poet and performance artist living and breathing in Brooklyn, NY. They are a graduate of Naropa University and an MFA candidate at Pratt Institute where they are… Continue reading
Two eyes glitter like the sun and the moonIn that faceA kite of self-confidence keeps flyingBeautiful orchids and rhododendrons always bloomCombating the storms of calamities On that faceA sun rises every morning to… Continue reading
Til the last light left the skyI thought about the silencein my home, how the yearswould sneak by like miceacross the field; and in mysolace outside my window,I gazed at the tiny cloudsof… Continue reading
trust the animals they don’t lie be an animal don’t lie the performance is a third eyeball we do not need get low stay low if you need to walk on two legs… Continue reading
Once upon a time, in a land beyond knowledge but not belief, there was a young king who feared time. When it was announced that his brother had died of a sudden sickness… Continue reading
After a long career Lou had terrible arthritis. She kept her wrists in canvas braces and used the index volume of the Catholic Encyclopedia to prop up her keyboard. On days the ache… Continue reading
According to Talmudic legend, Adam was a golem for the first twelve hours of existence, a body without a soul. Genesis, chapter two of the original 500 BC Hebrew version provides more detail:… Continue reading
you want to hide from the worldbut your movements give you awaybetter to stray like a cat in heatthan wander a lonely landscapewith nowhere to goand when the church bell ringsfor the third… Continue reading
The windswept mirages of Aprilare starving the city-memories.Occasionally, they simmerto bathe in the Nor’westers.The balconies and windowsof my house bring in impulses –Sounds of TV serials, some news debates,a distant music, a raucous… Continue reading
Brazenly preternatural and antitheticalcanonical light integrates withclashing gasses way beyonddigitized… Continue reading
What a day to be aliveAs in not yet deadYet it’s always just yetCreeping in from the cornersPanic flyers, bugs of discontentYou still have skies Water and bird soundsFor now, it’s always for nowEither… Continue reading
Sometimes the name they give you is all wrong. I was named Eva “after the first woman,” according to my mother. It has always seemed an odd choice, considering what happened to Eve,… Continue reading