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Give Love
By Heidi Larsen Give love with meMake it slow and strong.Hold my face in your handsPassionately long.Carry me, touch meEmbrace me in your heat.Cuddle me, spoil me,Sweep me off my feet.Cushion my back.I deserve more than floor.Think of me firstAnd hold my door.When you think of love,Think of me.Brag your love to all You see.Secretly drive behindMe at night,To check up on me,To see I’m…
The Sound of Silence
By Mounashree No sound I’ve heardcomes closeto the sound of silence—All the voices, internal or external,vanishes away.As it feels like guidance.The only soundthat instantly calms my racing mindThis stillness provides nothing but kindnessWhen I sit in an open field,under a tree,and drown myselfin the beauty of being,I notice the leavesgossiping about me—probably laughingat how silly I…
The Groundhog
By Keith W. Norris One week old fallen snowLooks like a layer of StyrofoamCrunches with each stepLike a bed of DoritosAnd the groundhog saw his shadow.Newly formed potholeBig enough to be a submarine hatchFilled with muddy waterSplashed on me by a BuickAnd the groundhog saw his shadow.Black ice-covered sidewalkSprinkled with rock saltThat doesn’t work below freezingAnd gives the squirrels high…
Beach storm
By James Aitchison I watch — captive —as the storm rolls inacross the bay,and the sea suckslight from the sky.The world ends atthe lashing rain,nothing exists beyond the punctured waves,the sand heaves beneathevery lightning strike,and old palms surrendertheir branches. And after the rage — the calm, deep and majestic,and the world holdsits breath. James Aitchison is an Australian poet and…
They’ve Fired All the Meteorologists
By Ken Damerow Another storm north of Hope,others past Denver &Kawkawlin, pushing into the lake,boiling fresh water. At the lip of the demon’s anvil,balanced on the upper tower,we scan radar alertsno longer matching the rising pressures.The bear cage, dangerously building, pushes us, franticfor solace, towardsthe pod-cast people,certain in themselves. Ken Damerow is a poet based in mid-Michigan…
Home
By Umera Riyaz In the fields, I held my hands.The echoes of your voice;plays reels of the past.Numbness shrinks my hunger,kissing the wounds of yesterday.My knees ache;my cracked heels are swollenfrom the weight of my thoughts.Barefoot, I walk like a lost sovereign.To the mainland I must return,But my feet remain still on concrete.A burnt bridge stands before me,once tall and strong.I called it…
The Apartment Window
By Summer Kim My brother and I sit on the apartment balcony,Knees pulled in, the busy city humming below usAcross the street, a woman stands at her window,Phone pressed to her ear, pacing in slow circles My brother says she’s waiting for someone,That every step is a promise she hasn't broken yetHe points out how she keeps checking the door,How hope makes people feel restlessI say she's trying to…
Old Libraries
By Donna M. Davis Conservators know the aromas of old books and the matter that forms them, the rate at which paper decomposes, the glue and the lignin, the stiff cardboard jackets or tooled leather covers.Cellulose dissolves slowly, melds invisibly with the air, fills your nostrils with hints of earth and vanilla. Forest mushrooms pop up their plump thumbs and turn pages. You can sense which…
Roadtrip
By John Ziegler On the 40 through southeast California,the brown Sierra Nevada,and stretches of dry sand and toasted sagebrush.White wind turbines in the distancea dozen here, two dozen there, two hundred on the hilltopslow roll in the wind.I’m flying at 80 in the 70 zone,Brubeck playing “Take Five”, the sky a soft blue,just thirty miles west of Needleswhere I’ll drive 95 north to the old west…
The death of men
By Soham.M.P Whence their hands did gas the earthfrom which men did see rebirthA legion of those thought deadnow march the lands with vengeful headAs they coughed up blood and bits of lungblanketed in the air, chlorine hungWith crimson stained cloth draped across their facethey swore to advance to the German baseThe kaiser's troops with confusion and fearscattered as the dead men drew nearThey…
Wailing Wall
By Stephen Kingsnorth Previously published by The Ekphrastic Review, November 2022 Les Saltimbanques (The Acrobats), by Gustave Dore (France) 1874 A balanced art composed to bringdiagonals of blue, soak red,reflecting acrobatic swing -but shed composure, fallen, bled.Sneer ace of spades in circus grinjoins daylight owl awaiting death,hug leotard, pale second skinsave flush of loins, last…
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Interim Archeology
By Tracy Powers When traveling past darkIn familiar and private landsI have a curious past time - A unique fascination with businesses Dimmed, and shutteredFor an evening’s spellOr a weekend’s timeThere, be it city, countyUnder rural stars or metropolis lightsAnd regardless of the intricate method of window dressingAll is alike and equal in the cloak of nightPlaces bustling and pulsing with life…
Snapdragons and Other Photographs
By KJ Hannah Greenberg
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Mix of Inspirations, The Entwined Man, and Submerged in Waste
By Sophie Yoon Sophie Yoon is a student and aspiring artist. Drawing inspiration from her surroundings and personal experiences, she uses various mediums to craft pieces that connect on an emotional and thought-provoking level. Sophie is passionate about storytelling through art and hopes to inspire others with her unique perspective.
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The Composer and Other Artwork
By Annabel Kim Annabel Kim is a high school student from Massachusetts whose artwork explores the intersections of memory, identity, and landscape. She often works in mixed media and oil, drawing inspiration from both everyday life and literature. Her work has been featured in student exhibitions, and she is excited to share her art with a broader audience through literary publications.
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bears and Other Paintings
By Julie Ha Julie Ha is a high school student attending a school in Connecticut whose visual work explores movement, memory, and the quiet spaces between them. When she’s not drawing or painting, she practices modern dance, which often influences the rhythm and gestures within her artwork.
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Prima Facie Evidence
By Michael C. Roberts My parents were the product of the Dust Bowl, the Depression, and World War II service. After they passed away, like so many of my generation, I found in the basement that mom and dad had saved LIFE, Time, and newspapers heralding the Eisenhower and Kennedy elections, moon landings, and the Nixon scandals. Cardboard boxes contained vinyl records, 8 track and cassette tapes,…
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