December 31, 2018
Tianna G. Hansen
Letter from the Editor
Eric S. Fomley
Accompanied by: "connected" - Stephen Briseño
"I See You"
“Spring begins somewhere”
“Volcanoes & Hurricanes”
Kate Garrett with Renee Firer and Tianna G. Hansen
on Pirates, Saints, and the Magic Behind Kate Garrett's Writing and Editing
Kate Garrett is multi-talented, to say the least: an avid writer, mother of five, and editor of multiple lit mags (ho...
collection of photographs
The (following) photographs I sent are part of three different collections. "Gateway to Her Secrets," is a more recent piece. I photographed the Delicate Arch in Utah early in the morning. The...
Sunken City of The Ancient One
by Eric S. Fomley
Thom was tormented within, anguished beyond measure, and stressed by life.
He stood in the bathroom and looked into the mirror, into himself, until the mirror rippled. He heard the sounds of waves, saw a sunken city in th...
by Jennifer Wolkin
The day I found out you died
I saw perennial carcasses cry
& then begin to
"ONCE IN SMITTEN MOON:
The one time the moon meets its match: The ever lucky Shooting Star."
by Neel Trivedi
The Other Side of the Nightmare
by Jan Keenan
I’ll look out of the window as the city colours give way to shades of green. A young mum with two kids will sit op...
"doodles10" by Matthew Yates
Self-portrait as pie
by Gervanna Stephens
A little bit of this
a dash of that.
Cut and fold to remove lumps of self
no longer one
no longer whole.
I’m combined dark and light
to set in dish greased
no stick, for I am neither.
Lifehack: Hushing a Troublesome Boy
by Chad Musick
Who doesn’t dream at night of dosing her son with ipecac and then, when he goes to vomit, just... shutting the lid? One terrible accident, and you can dine out on the tragedy for years.
by Salvatore Difalco
They said I was a mistake. Or rather, they said I was mistaken. My ears have grown smaller and smaller over time. I cannot explain it. Sumptuous women and men wearing white masks bid from the gallery.
by Jen Persichetti
To be soulless is an art
An art you have taught me – and taught me well
My heart has yet to thaw and I crave afternoons of solitude
Cold winter mornings entice me and I despise junipers in Spring
Storm clouds and abandoned farmhouses sit atop...