Issue #6

ISSUE #6


Cover Image by Omoregie Osakpolor Cover Design by Bard Studio Poetry **************** Sharon Matongo Amanda Gomez Cynthia Atkins Mark Young Stephan Delbos Lynn White peach schist Sanjeev Sethi Daniel M. Shapiro Francis Annagu Inalegwu Omapada Alifa Akor Emmanuel Oche Afolabi Boluwatife Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau Jack Little Steve Klepetar John Casquarelli and Luis Figueredo Tom Montag Angelica Fuse Fiction **************** Joan…






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Daniel M. Shapiro

Looking ’Round without a Clue by Daniel M. Shapiro


We created interference. With all the quick cuts, they couldn’t tell who was who. My memories, those times I swam in the ocean that burned, they mixed with hers, hours locked in the room where all she could do was read, read. We wrapped cardboard messages around our cerebra, fashioned guitars and violins from pool noodles, no frequencies necessary. When…






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Amanda

Domestic Abuse by Amanda Gomez


They say it happens at the end of monsoon season – the herons, kingfishers, bitterns and every other local bird in the region commits mass suicide. They spiral down, smacking into buildings; self-destructing, as if evil spirits overcome their bodies exact moments before crashing. Some say extreme fog disorients their senses. Some blame brain swelling from drastic altitude changes. Researchers,…






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Sharon Motango

Unfurling Wonder by Sharon Matongo


I often talked to God 4am strewn across my bed sheets, Atmosphere, reeking of disgrace; morning-breath the taste of shame, And my limp prayers, they floundered out my mouth, “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. For I am inadequate. An aberration.” Lust, Thick like baobab roots whose longing for more Broke through this surface, Through this parched land. I…






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Joan Leotta

At the Flower Show, Pittsburgh 1957 by Joan Leotta


A field of flowers under an expansive Victorian globe. An indoor profusion of summer, whilst outside bare branches still brushed gray. Chill skies –that was what we were promised. We waited for the realization of that promise, two by two, adding our own small breathy clouds to those of the sky. Sister Anne patrolled our line, ensuring order. At last,…






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Mark Young

A line from Yo Yo Ma by Mark Young


The range of bad behavior shocked her; but a high- handed surgeon used a chisel to dismiss her complaints whilst upholding those made against her by a hierarchy of elitist men. Perhaps only the transmission of music will eliminate incom- petent leaders. So, walk a fine line. Workplace bullying in- volves new typologies for risk management since 38% of the…






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Stephan Delbos

Matchbook Epiphany by Stephan Delbos


On this boulevard lined with ivory obelisks & cranes, I’ll lurk until sunrise, my perfect embouchure on a glass thirst trumpet; each penitent sip arpeggio learned like the sorrowful mysteries: by rote. Thursday– clock legs spread as darkness comes. Stilt heels, cigarettes, mint chewing gum; clutching their sparkling pocketbooks, two shes sway down the sidewalk: pearls torn from a necklace…






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Absences by Oyin Oludipe


‘Absences do not / Deplete the tavern. They hang over the haze…’ – Wole Soyinka, In the Small Hours It all began one beautiful morning with absences: apparitions came and went, and the firmament was gone. By a corner, a revenant pillar of ants has ruptured in its own wake; and the dissolution heralds the quiet grief of receding rains.That…






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Lynn White

Dreamers by Lynn White


The sun is standing still for them Standing still for the streams of dreamers. Dreamers streaming down the roads to somewhere else. From somewhere that has become nowhere. Dreaming of escape. Dreaming of a future, any future. Dreaming of better things to come. Dreaming of the life they once had. Dreaming of normality, whatever that means. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Dreaming…






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Photo credit: Alexis Rhone Fancher

God Is a Medicine Cabinet by Cynthia Atkins


This is egregious, the mind’s parlor is being wooed Before breakfast—Even before hitting the sticky gymnasium floor. The keys to your ethos held accountable in a drowning pool of munitions. Swerving on a slick road like mood hoodlums on the lamb. Offered a cigarette on the front lines, to come back and report on the internal conflict—Yes, every day is…






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