Category / Issue 02

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  • Tribute – Rodney Nelson

    one look at an outside wall of the country house would have told me that she had gardened    he’d made art because I had seen that trowel in her hand and asked…

  • Pithed – Bryce Johle

    My teacup cradles a wishy-washy      countenance, waves folding over flimsy features like colored paper giving in      to origami. Have you ever wished your bones could twist like that, coolly ripple      into a…

  • The Neighborhood – James Croal Jackson

    walking down my own damn street I’m struck by a purple rotting house I’ve never seen before   a lightning realization!          what else have I missed?    the two story yam,…

  • I Fall Asleep Thinking Snow – Ann Howells

    awaken to black-capped birds    inside December silence snow dances in a dervish whirl,    smooth rounded drifts single line of bootprints    mars the ice-crusted walk & silence rings around me like a bell…

  • Copenhagen – Elizabeth Jaeger

    Copenhagen is cold, not exactly the place to go in February if you are itching for a tan or longing for an escape to the seaside. However, if you are frantic to…

  • Silent Letter to My Post-Colonial Friend – Pawan Hira

      Come to me not as if a friend sweet I was I have never been one if you want to know   Come to me like equals and dare to say…

  • The Ethos of The City Animal in India – Pawan Hira

    There has never been a sentiment of such a nature which says: In India, do as Indians do   and I am tempted to look through and wonder how it is true…

  • Stateless – Oz Hardwick

    after Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Hymnen   Fast laughter: insects repeat, repeat: time passes, glides, cuts, repeats, repeats: metal breathes deep and sings:   the world speaks in accidental phonetics drawn from static wires…

  • Perceptions – Carol Hamilton

    The window skitters and rasps as the jets take off, circle, fake a landing, then do it again. The engine hum is less and less then more and more so the return…

  • Know this – Robbin Farr

    All day long I say nothing but I am sorry. The words tumble in breaths and yawns, wait for acceptance at the breakfast table, over black coffee and blue bowls of oatmeal.…