RAM by Debendra LalTranslated from the Odia by Pitambar Naik
Whether or not Ram was thereI don’t know. Whether or notRam would come one day,that also I don't know. But then,the only thing I know is thatthere’s one Ram Lalthere’s one Ram Prasadthere’s one...
ELEANOR’S POEMS by Nardine Sanderson
Poem one: (Decorum)How bittersweet is sleep, The pillage of the end, where death evades the breath of life, and silence is a friend, for what becomes of us and love, does it last eternity...
THE RUNNER by Alessio Zanelli
The Runner
On feet of dreams the runner’s headed to land’s end.She knows the horizon keeps receding while she’s running,but she runs as though it didn’t.A finish line is not her aim.Along the pathway time’s...
AMICUS CURIAE IN IGNE by William Pruitt
Amicus Curiae in Igne
Amicus curiae: an individual or organization who is not a party to a legal case, but who is permitted to assist a court by offering information, expertise, or insight that has...
FOREVER by Adelaide B. Shaw
A Lover’s Song
come to mefor comfort and for warmthcome to me for lovefor friendship and for trustfor understanding and for care
come to me for lovefor sunlit days and star filled nightsfor laughter and for...
EXPAT by Joe Albanese
Trading Post at the Edge of Known
Empty more mistaken pearlto curl fate
and find oneself
somewhere withno starsand no fear,no knots andno ends
The varied cost not haggled,just peaked and tipped
Traverse naught and koan, andtrust the seed...
TRANSCONTINENTAL by Guiseppe Getto
Transcontinental
How do you take it? She says.Clouds have rolled in, drawn thinend to end like cotton pantieson high-tension wire. Below the seaof non-native grasses is Lincoln,then below alkali flats,the lost golden tablets of Joseph...
A BLESSING by Dayna Lellis
My Phone Died
This silence makes me confrontthe thoughts I’ve tried to represswith an assembly line ofvoices and videos.
My Longest Relationship
My longest relationship is with myself.To keep the love alive, I need to ask:Are my...
NAKED IN DREAMS by Michael Eaton
Parting Is Sweet Sorrow
she leftanddidn’t leavemuch of herself—a blond hairdropped without care,frayed golden threadon a worn and stained carpet,a cup of coffee,half-filled, unstirred,and a smell lingeringon the morning sheetslike a winter fog lying lightlyover...
NO BONES ABOUT IT by Ken Holland
NO BONES ABOUT IT
Someone told me that my storywas a story that would be told.But I can’t remember who it wasthat spoke when he spoke so.Or who he said the teller would be.Or if...