By Thomas Page Have you ever seen an atlas of puddles Speckle the pavement? An atlas of puddles My feet are wet to the bone, my socks drenched And my shoes seemingly soaked, man. An atlas of puddles The pavement undulates ever so low Making deltas in the city plan An atlas of puddles The … Continue reading Atlas of Puddles
“Akimbo”
By Thomas Page Walt Whitman, he himself, prepares to take a portrait. A portrait of something beyond the Walt that has been know. The Walt of Manhattan, the dandy pedagogue, known for his tendency To prefer the physical over the spiritual To desire what can be attained over what can be inferred He, the … Continue reading “Akimbo”
Homestead
By Thomas Page With the glide of a Pen, Emily Dickinson Writes a little poem. She looks out her room’s Window, the cemetery Calls her to picture Momento mori— The fly captures dying light From someone’s pale eyes The buzz steals the soul As the weak lids close firmly To open nevermore. She puts … Continue reading Homestead
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.
Dreams
By Rajnish Mishra My father is a dreamer, has always been. Only now his dreams have enlarged spheres. Even then, back then, he dreamed a lot and talked of his dreams, of a suave move, a shrewd plan, a sure guide, ‘for dummies’ to the treasure at the end of the rainbow. Times … Continue reading Dreams
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
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
Everything You Left Behind (Reprise)
By Alyssa Trivett A compression sock. Wooden baseball bat. Power drills aligning the wall, armed to the teeth with battery packs. Rusted out workbench. Operational electric model train town, circa ’97. Miscellaneous slippers, plastic laboratory glasses, beakers, and pipettes. Old business cards from your consulting business. Referee whistles. Identification badges for the park district. A keychain … Continue reading Everything You Left Behind (Reprise)
Academy of the Heart And Mind 