My mother baked an apple crumble, Golden brown over green. She did everything right, Followed the recipe to perfection, Warmed her hands on the oven door whilst checking. When it came out? Just a stodgy mess. Some said she’d stewed it too long. Others claimed the apples bruised. One said they were rotten. But you... Continue Reading →

“When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and... Continue Reading →

and I (much as the stream slows past bends which come continuously, as it flashes its fins like rings on a king- fisher’s fingers, on the arms of married women and unsettled wild young men) will one day retire my flouncing, settle down, after I have lived finally in enough places to see that one... Continue Reading →

Since you floated away, I've been pondering my feelings - particularly today. If I were a movie and you were my director, After your credits were over, I could no longer cry on your shoulder. As your script flashed before my interior eye, I was left disillusioned before I could cry. Literally, I was your... Continue Reading →

It is cold in my mind and in my bed. The shadow of you lingers like a coffin. I crawl into it and dream of a life I will never own. I wake only to the hell I have been taught I deserve. Photo by Max Vakhtbovych on Pexels.com About the Poet: A.J. Huffman is... Continue Reading →

[i] what if a promise comes back drills your amygdala like a gimlet bleeds in an iambic pentameter [ii] and you anesthetize it with a new promise like tender wind melting an ice-cube in an iambic pentameter Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com About the Poet: Palash Mahmud is a bilingual writer, book critic based in... Continue Reading →

Desperation leads to the path of love. There is nothing magical about blood. The moonlight is my only family. They say that emotional cheating is part and parcel to becoming a loved one, and yet, nobody volunteers their soul. I dream that my brood will share my bloodline. Even though I cannot stand how you... Continue Reading →

I want to be someone other than me. I look in the mirror and my face incites enmity. Photo by Evelyn Chong on Pexels.com About the Poet: Francis DiClemente is an Emmy Award-winning filmmaker who lives in Syracuse, New York. He is the author of six poetry collections, most recently Outward Arrangements: Poems (independently published, 2021) and Dreaming... Continue Reading →

That day, my father lost his path as he tipped his lips to the sky. Clouds began to gather, thin on a distant horizon. When he lost his job, the dark threat rose beyond the Blue Ridge valley. When he sold our mountain land and fields, I could hear thunder roar in the distance. Darkness... Continue Reading →