By Madeline Mulkerrins At the river’s edge, a group of whooping cranes leap in a circle, aiming their beaks up to the satellites. Google says it’s a bonding ritual. There are rules hung up where you can’t see them, behind the barbed wire. Everyone’s got bolt cutters now. You must crawl under the fence. So … Continue reading Bolt Cutters
Common Ground
By Arden Falker Burning effort like newspapersto keep each other warm.Unwinding two heartslike a balloon slipping from our hands.We were driftwood lostamong a sea of spelling words and budgeting.Each confrontation was emberto a tinderbox.We were engulfed in conflictthirsting for water to soothe the flame.Consumed like gasoline ablazespreading aimlesslydevouring everything in its path.Our touch was frictionlike … Continue reading Common Ground
Porcupines
By Mike Panasitti There are days the glaring Sun weakens me, as do Egyptian geese,& goslings become prey in shallow waters. Yet otters, when they lavish whelps with affection, are a sight to see. I never feared one day I’d grow thorny or mutter, Humans can be porcupines. Everyone should know. Borderlines—get too close, it’s … Continue reading Porcupines
The cello doesn’t sleep
By Amaira Sachdev They said it was broken—left to rot in the attic,dust stitched into its seams—but at 4am, it sings.Not a tune.A whimper,like breath caughtbetween a hushand a scream.I played it once.Strings snapped like nerves.Something cold slid up my wristand whispered,“Let me show you...”Now he waits—by the mirror,behind the curtain—his smile cracked like a … Continue reading The cello doesn’t sleep
Locked Notes From an iPhone
By Madeleine Correa Dew on the windowsill,what remains of the storm. One teardrop falling,faster, faster.I watch it race across the glass as another runs down my cheek.Glazed eyes and fog on the windowmix with the frost that coats the glass.A late winter sun’s light tries to pierce through the haze,but still I can’t see. Madeleine … Continue reading Locked Notes From an iPhone
Anger and Pain
By Robert Moe Some say anger and pain are cousinsAlways traveling as one.I’ve felt them both in my days,Intertwined, solidified,Almost premeditated,Enjoying their journey.But I prefer laughter with my pain.True partners in survivalA touch of humor in the sorrowTempering, if even a shade twisted,And each glad dayCan carry its drop of pain. Robert is a part-time … Continue reading Anger and Pain
Ode to Owl
By Hayley Ranae At two in the morningWhen everyone's asleepI lay awakeListening To a symphony of sounds That bless my ears When I alone, am up to hearThis owl of mineHe hoots and coosSometimes earning a croak or creak from the frog that lives in The front bushes Or the train that passes by,Nowhere close … Continue reading Ode to Owl
A New Chapter With My Girls
By Destiny Anderson I am learning how to let go of a life I thought would last forever.Some days it feels like I am falling apart in slow motion,and other days it feels like pieces of me are finally falling into place.My girls are the reason I keep standing,even when my world feels strange and … Continue reading A New Chapter With My Girls
rushed songbirds
By Adonis Alegre i am like felicity who starts with something niceand ends all things with fire. and i would want to be an orphan from somebody's mouth, atleast, for awhile.the stars are ghoslty but beside my other eye;i rigor this doorif the people of the common had went some borning,i ate worry in the … Continue reading rushed songbirds
Mortar
By Elisa Mejia Though time has pestled you into acceptance and the cliffs are saying goodbye,peppercorns grind fineand sea salt smash-sprinkles,a savory mixture nestled next to wild onions you’ve pulled from the field.Pungent green bunches passed through by the legs of deer and black fox feetand overhead by crows who long to kettlebut banter with … Continue reading Mortar
Academy of the Heart And Mind 