By Emma Woodford Lydia green fronds a little brittle maneuvered carefully into place branches gently straightened out. Re-placed and pushed down, half a can of water doused whispering a loving chant. Bay tree planted, mold two holes and fold in roots. His ancestor lives in Brittany, kilometers from here, first planted in … Continue reading Roots
Time well-traveled
By Emma Woodford They knew their lives were shattered when he couldn’t find the key. Now she cries at every turn, tears like grains of sadness on her face. We love her house and feel her pain seeing our future in those grains.
I Had a Dream
By Rajnish Mishra I had a dream, not a long time ago. It’s not the kind that I have anymore. In that dream I went back in time to a place that’s not there anymore. They were playing cricket there. I was playing my own age. So, I stood and watched them having all the … Continue reading I Had a Dream
Then I Left
By Rajnish Mishra, I come home after years and carry bribes along: bribes for minds to remember, to remind me the forgotten me. I carry chocolates for all. Death is of two kinds: permanent or temporary removal from a world. In my world of past I’m dead. I’m dead, nearly, for many. I’m dead … Continue reading Then I Left
Tricks Language Plays
By Rajnish Mishra My daughter, eight, looked at me with eyes: half-enquiring, half-afraid, eyes with faith, half, at least, and asked suddenly: Are we born again after death? I looked at my wife. Our eyes met. She smiled: that corners of the eyes, so-it-did-happen smile, and I knew it was not she who dropped a … Continue reading Tricks Language Plays
Post-Work Remains Left
I forgot the applewood bacon in the work fridge. My mother sleeps on the couch as infomercials promising or your money-back guarantee sins blast like music during a tumbling event. There isn't a single Z for shut-eye for me to borrow this evening, I sweated them out in eight-and-a-half hour aisle increments, but I'll get 'em back … Continue reading Post-Work Remains Left
Sunday Morning, At a Friend’s
By Alyssa Trivett Trains hopscotch over hangnail tracks, lollygagging into the next privileged horizon, the soundbites chewing up any ear-space we have left. Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work recently appeared at in Between … Continue reading Sunday Morning, At a Friend’s
Kissing Butterfly
By Maria Lagdameo I am here breathing still, pinning; Reminisce of a must have been. I saw you often only in my dreams, Your supple lips kissing me; ...whispering elegy We had a love, that we never get to say; Afraid, held back, forbidden in this world, Where hearts were used to barter for gains, With … Continue reading Kissing Butterfly
IF
By Rajnish Mishra Work is worship. It earns returns. Wives with a poet husband want his work bring returns. Time invested in poetic affairs does not reflect upon account. Life’s short, wants unlimited, each second must count. “Don’t build your Nobel in the air”, she says, motherly, practical and fair. Pardons poor husband’s … Continue reading IF
When Words Are Not Enough
By: Nalini Priyadarshni Every now and then we run out of words mostly after we have poured our hearts choking on what we would rather not say because it won't change a thing In moments like these when our hearts tether at the brink of imploding, we pant and wait for the feeling to … Continue reading When Words Are Not Enough
Academy of the Heart And Mind 