By Dan French He was larger than life. Rippling biceps, which he flexed in front of us. He seemed able to lift anything, solve any task, fix any machine, take care of everything that came his way. He had it all, or seemed to. He delighted in pouring red blood from the dinner platter of … Continue reading Superman Loses His Powers
Magic
By Cheryl L. Caesar When I was seven my dolls still talked and moved, even the unfortunate one I’d molded out of clay, who looked like Alice the Goon. Having no armature, she couldn’t stand. She sat splay-legged, as though in an eternal game of jacks. When I was seven, the April issue of Jack … Continue reading Magic
Pete, Bob, and Robert
By Rose Aiello Morales Because in the beginning, there was suburbia and every house was the same. I was born, the placenta of ticky tacky, with Pete singing of the boxes, pastel past the point of home ownership, yards with swing sets and trampled dirt yards, Mothers saw their kids at meals or when the … Continue reading Pete, Bob, and Robert
Mother
By Sahaj Sabharwal You are my pain curing, You are my thoughts hearing, You are my progress rising, That's why soul of mine is good.. I am trying to be good, Don't worry I am like developing wood, Your eye is only on me stood, That's why soul of mine is good.. Whenever I am being … Continue reading Mother
The Time Traveler
By Ahmad Al-khatat If I had a time machine I would not go the dark part that built me up sad; or ahead to my unknown destiny and fearful future I would take it and go with it to the cemetery to bring me back to the last moments of my friends and see what … Continue reading The Time Traveler
Without A Mouth
By Ahmad Al-khatat I asked my parents why the moon and sun exist without a mouth, and live with grief in their eyes my father said because mankind lies to each other every day, below the sincere sunshine then my mother said because mankind betrays To each other quickly and shamelessly under the moonlight today, … Continue reading Without A Mouth
My Relationship With The Last Day Of My Life
By Ahmad Al-khatat Lately I started having a close relationship with the last day of my life right after, death will collect my spirit somewhere near the broken gates of hell I recalled two young girls, laughing like headless chickens in the cage of Animal Farm, while George Orwell is alerting them from the danger … Continue reading My Relationship With The Last Day Of My Life
I’m eight
By Rajnish Mishra I‘m eight. Now, that I’ve seen eight, nine, I’m sure, will not be as fine as they write in those tales. Tales are just tales, I know, I’m eight. So, they talk to me, I listen, and nod, then I do what I want. I’ve seen when I … Continue reading I’m eight
Poems By J.J.Campbell
to let my youth go i find myself staring at older black women these days i'm not sure if it's habit or my unwillingness to let my youth go maybe it's all the endless dreams of my first girlfriend and where we could be now i think part of me … Continue reading Poems By J.J.Campbell
A rose and waste picker
By Sunil Sharma A rose blooms on a dump in Delhi It sways in the morning wind the way drunk girls sway and swear on the predatory Indian streets and restricted cultural zones to express happiness and freedom from stifling familial and patriarchal constraints In Mumbai and other metros on long Saturday nights. The morning light plays on the petals and … Continue reading A rose and waste picker
Academy of the Heart And Mind 