Latest Publications:

[poetry]

Humming and Taking the Old Birdie Out for a Spin

By Robert Beveridge

The antique store hides // a portal to the underworld // behind a wall of maps // of places that don’t exist.

[poetry]

Human Pastoral Brick and Two Other Poems

By Chris Corlew

willow-white duck // the blistered // spigot squirts not only for you // but for my irradiated necktie

[fiction]

Netherworld

By J. A. Hersh

They were driving straight down a dark road, their little green car bumping on the potholes. It wasn’t a long drive back to their apartment. Fifteen minutes or so.

[poetry]

My Resume

By David A. Goodrum

I can hear new bark // forming as daylight // lengthens

[fiction]

UNITE?

By R. P. Singletary

“Jane, the taste the taste, you have no idea, Jane.” Typing texting toiling tighter to a tik-tok than ever paid to do in an office.

[fiction]

Until My Dying Breath

By Stefanie Lee

I’ll tell you about how I’ve been remembering myself in the silver crucifixes and imaginary cracks of light underneath a centuries-old door frame. About how I find smudges of my soul on everything I touch, bones, dirt, the paper-thin resolve in my hands. It’s dark, you know.

[poetry]

Absolute Room and The Space

By T. A. R. Wallace

Indoors, faith's crumb turned my without force // as a red need - the language, the // locate plan.

[poetry]

Charlie

By Mary Paulson

Hi Charlie, I // say as I’m // exiting our // neighboring abode.

[article]

Ode to the Flower (April 22, 2022) and 'Morgenlich Leuchtend im Rosigen Schein'

By Francis Fernandes

Trees, asleep in winter, dreaming of sun and blossoms. And why shouldn’t they?

[poetry]

Water Can't Roll and First Date

By Ellen Orr

As cast in copper, pelican reflects. // Pale plumage tarred brown. Preening // for naught: water seeps in, chills.

[poetry]

Wait, A Point, and Twice Revised Tales

By Edward Michael Supranowicz

There is an instant in all // Beginnings and endings // Where trees wait to bloom, // And rivers wait to flow.

[fiction]

Mrs. Anglerfish

By R.B. Underwood

I wake up. The morning sun is seeping in through the closed curtains. What a beautiful day!