Pain Pain in another’s heart is imagined but never experienced the same. Empathetic souls imagine how they would feel to identify. Others contend their pain is superior but yours is nothing serious. Religion declares your pain is penance; enduring it the key to salvation. Hatred promotes this pain, your kind should suffer for existing. Love […]Read more "Poetry by John Homan"
you dress for work in straight skirt & paisley blouse. It’s camouflage, like a turtle buried on the beach, how lost you were, newly left. As your teen daughter, I determined not to follow you, wore men’s clothes. Why? Women are weak, get forgotten. You & I, we spun alone, separate eggs tossed in ocean […]Read more "you dress for work in straight skirt by Lynn Finger"
Lord, will those eyes become blinding? Will those hands become terrifying fire? Will that warm face become cosmic mystery again? We were ready to run away to new land Our boats were rocking in the waves Our nets were miraculous for catching fish We have left behind the graves and those scowling that we find […]Read more "During the Ascension by Ellen Huang"
Every Saturday night, cast in shadow and fog, our Crew – a Melvillian band of shadow laden pranksters – lingered curbside near a moon-shined fire hydrant. “How many years we been submerged in America’s academic shackles?” one boy snorted and spit. “Damn long,” another barked. “Need out,” one said. “Need to get away.” The Crew […]Read more "White Whale by Mitchell Duran"
”New Home” is based in my Mexican/Spanish background and the stories I’ve heard my abuelita talk about coming from Tijuana to the Bay Area. The poem is from the viewpoint of one of her sons. My aim was to capture the contrast of the mysticism of her stories with the hardships of not knowing what […]Read more "Poetry by Mitchell Duran"
When I was a very young child & I heard the moog trills of the In Search Of theme music, I would run into my room & hide under my covers. The grainy black & white images of the intro. sequence alone frightened me: a grainy row of rapa nui, a ruined Scottish castle, a crystal skull, but I […]Read more "Poetry by Mark Lamoureux"
My mother carries an entire biography in the palms of two small hands, each wrinkle deep and rich with story. I listen as I hold them in mine. Sometimes, when I bring them close to my ear, songs of moments long forgotten ring out into the space between us. From the sound of her bike […]Read more "Sounds of Remembrance by Nam Hoang Tran"
Washed Away. Arthur Schopenhauer said: “After your death you will be what you were before your birth“. When we think of birth, we often forget to remember death. The joy of seeing new life or the prospect of new beginnings and opportunities are seldom marred by the inevitability of the end; death. Yet, the possibility […]Read more "Photography by Shiksha S. Dheda"
I listened (Nirvana) To rest on the shores of Nirvana You must freeze your flow Cut connections to the current And sift through your skin Because buried in you Is the desire to drown, It’s better if you stab your eyes To prepare for never-ending night And if you opt for vision Don’t confuse sheets […]Read more "Poetry by Carson Sandell"
Cento from “Ideology”, “I WAKE UP CURLED UP IN A C.D. WRIGHT POEM”, “Mother of All Balms”, and “Reading Rilke at Lake Mendota, Wisconsin” by Aria Aber & Where Reasons End by Yiyun Li The dead have the advantage of the leavers; those left behind have to have something to hold on to. I rearranged a vase […]Read more "Once-Upon-a-Chimes by Aura Martin"