Catalogues by John Grey

Catalogues arrive in droves. They want me fitted out with hunting rifles, fishing waders up to my knees. They’d have me listen to CD’s of the Four Lads or take home courses…

Photo credit: Alexis Rhone Fancher

Hello Stranger by Cynthia Atkins

It’s me—This voice inside a tin box inside the intention to be a voice of one, but we’re all crammed ………………in traffic—This grid is the lunatic abyss inside a pickle jar. We…

a field of echoes by amu nnadi

… and mind flutters to a close eyelids to slumber all over, a certain darkness emerges earth is populated with nothing but a tempered sigh t night flashes white underwear as meteor,…

The Market by Ifediba Zube

  There is a huge pile of corn husks at the entrance to the market. The sides of the pile are flattened and stained red by hundreds of marching feet and speeding…

Quarter Moon by Alan Britt

Today I’m coming back. Like hieroglyphics scrawled upon an overpass, I’m omnipresent. The shadow around my waist expands to include cosmic debris: planetary fragments, clouded leopards looming the horizon, clarinets like loons…

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