David LaBounty Michigan, USA Bethany calls me while I am sitting at my desk. It’s the morning and my desk is cluttered. There are unopened envelopes and half empty coffee cups and sticky notes saying so and so called and that they want me to call them back. My desk is always cluttered because I…
Author: Vishwanath Bite
The Cookie Man
An. Ray Norsworthy Boise, USA Because the sun kills the improvident, and the cookie man is nothing if not provident, he always comes into town about an hour before dusk, his elongated shadow preceding him down Main Street. The only sound is the wind whistling the day’s last fevered breath. No dog scampers out to…
Snapshot
Mitanjeli Tischler Kansas, USA The Separation Everything is arranged. The lights are on, and the groceries sit on the counter. The coffee pot is clean, the tea boxes stacked on the shelf. Yellow peppers and green bananas remain in their plastic bags on the floor. The man and the woman argue at the front door,…
Ian Prattis Ottawa, Canada
Poet Behind a plough of words the poet drives a furrow, – never straight. Phrases spiral upwards, as an eagle soars in a sky with no horizon or meter. Universal alphabet mimics dancing clouds and touches Creation’s syntax. Cascading into passages that hover, tracing cosmic runes at the edge of knowing. Words drift by on…
Darryl Salach Toronto, Canada
BREAKING DIGITAL LOCKS government crackdowns: the Feds introduce a new bill entitled “Technology Neutral” pop-goes-the-weasel screams the Industry Minister standing on the left and sometimes on the right copyright protection now has more teeth – bite the ass of the individual consumer delights the war-monger pimp who proposes further annihilation to the arts delighted corporate…
Khurshid Alam
Brian Heffron Los Angeles, USA
Donna Baier Stein New Jersey, USA
Alacrity Stone Toronto, Canada
My Love Trusts In the treasury of snow angelic hands in shadow fold each fragile breath of a rose with reverence to a name. Vibrant sister who stepped a silent samba in somber shoes; whose flutter of exquisite hands dropped like doves to nest in awkward fists of gentleness; you are “a fountain of gardens…
Melissa Studdard Houston, USA
Maverick Galloping girl, beautiful woman in bloom— you ride this life like you would an untamed beast, your hands on the mane as if clinging to sanity itself, your own hair blowing its susurrus, whispers of fire in the wind. But sanity you suspect is only an opinion, and genius is the simple act of…