The Poet The ship crashes against the rocks and a poem Forms in her head right as she flies over the railing Something so perfect and beautiful it must be wr...

CONTRIBUTORS Alex Andy Phuong—Alhambra, CA Ann Aubitz—Bloomington, MN Anne Goodwin—Nottingham, UK Anita Haas—Madrid, Spain Avijit Roy—Kolkata, India Barbara ...

By Dr. P.C. Scheponik

By Bill DeArmond

The Risks of Poetry Arm in a sling, her broken shoulder mends into prosaic prose. She bore the voice of millions in her words Freighted, despondent dead who ...

The Alcatraz Swim An essay by Janice Strootman “Three, two, one, jump!” yelled the boatswain. The ferry was bouncing wildly, the engines were off, and we w...

The Unexpected Bliss of Death—and Life By Avijit Roy The bedroom is dark. It's been drizzling for two hours. A cold breeze blows into the room's only window,...

Stones on the Path I focus on stones as I stroll along Some look fragile and others strong How would they feel if they became real? One heavy to hold, life’s...

The Triangle The triangle on my block is more than a grassy knoll where children play and parents patrol. Stay-at-home dads cautiously flirt with thy neighbo...

Willow of the Wisps By Sue Midlock I am the oldest. A girl. A sister to four younger brothers. Dreadful beasts they are and yet, I am to endure their antics ...

I am part of a wonderful women writers' group. About ten of us, give or take a few, meet every month for lunch and go around the table updating the others on...

CONTRIBUTORS Alphabetical by first name: Adrian Slonaker—St. John’s, Newfoundland Alex Andy Phuong—CA Ann Aubitz—Bloomington, MN Anita Haas—Madrid, Spain Bar...

Welcome Mat The ongoing search for intelligent life in the universe should start at home, in our dumbing-down Earth, where we’re in desperate need of solutio...

WINK: Writers in the Know magazine’s 2019 Pushcart Prize nominations: Small press editors are invited to send in six nominations each year from works publish...

Berta I was nine the summer I learned what cruelty was. It was then I knew it was true, what Tom had said. Berta really had killed two husbands. Berta was alw...

Taste the Words Flash Fiction by Anita Haas “What colour is it?” she asked, running her fingertips over the surface of the plate. “White. Well...” he knew be...

Choices A sweet young, long-haired beauty Opened wide her red-lipped mouth to sing, Blurting out a message that’s hard to hear: “It’s too late now to do...

grass does not ask why one blade lives another dies O to be so wise —Teresa M Riggs Foushee experiencing joy in the present moment feels like arrival —Teresa...

WILD: in the Right Amount To be wild in the right amount Is to accept no charity To weave, to root, to move And live your heart’s decree On winged thoughts G...

Tess Galati, Ph.D. You’re starting a writing project? Great! Just don’t start spinning out sentences right away. If you do that you’ll invite the gods of neg...