It is hard to believe we will be entering our third year soon. But the proof is there. Our eighth quarterly issue is “in the can” and number 9 looms on the horizon. Nearly 100 stories and poems have graced our virtual pages since 2008. We even have a first year anthology in PDF form […]
Browsing all 14 posts in Issue 8.
We seek well-crafted poetry in all forms consistent with our aesthetic. We favor free verse with effective line breaks, traditional forms with unforced rhyme and prose poems that transcend prose. The successful poem will often be rich in imagery and have excellent rhythm.
I say to the girl with Botox cheeks & burning marshmallow implants that maybe after we punch our clocks, ones that were made in Hong Kong but shipped over to Eastern Standard, maybe we can have a dance, spin a dime on it, a dime a dance a chance to make the night last, without […]
Feet braced wide she rides a vessel of lavenders and whimsical blues. Scrollwork curls and spindles spiral into railings of green and rose filigree. Trailing vines, pastel flowers spray their blooming lengths stem to stern, port to starboard along rolling decks of cherry wood. Snapping sails of blue and white, one strong tug against wooden […]
Weary fire is banked against the night. My worried cat across the study floor stalks wandering paper. This ballooning book I labour on grows daily more and more consuming. Here within my shimmering house, a sanctuary, girt by ornery trees against the world, my characters have all pulled free of me, and lead me where […]
Shadows: crows eating light, invade the crematorium of sunset. The canopy of night is an umbrella with hooked handle clutched in talons. The world withers beneath wings. Somewhere, a voice sings a hymn and the murder migrates, dives after the music, catches the melody in their beaks, and swallows the notes whole. In that moment, […]
One twilight eve I wandered off, down by the old cornfield. I came across the gruesome scene, an autumn moon revealed. The rustling corn had come to life and formed a vicious pack. Their eyes were red and faces pale, their teeth were dull and black. They swarmed around their guiding light, a Scarecrow tall […]
Stand in the rain, and listen to her lyrics riding joyous on the wind. Leave your footprints in the snow. I found myself in this place where laughter spills from knotted pines, and squirrels chirr with crickets. My name floated past, but not from tree or bear. It was the forest speaking, her heart in […]
The Woodwight’s eyes darkened. “It’s more than mere legend, Outlander. The Nornë is a demon, a dark and terrible demon. I know because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen everything it is capable of, and have followed it here because I intend to kill it.”
In the midst of the fine food and strange music, Thali tried to relax, but found she could not. Again and again the same questions circled in her mind, like carrion-birds over a corpse. Why was Dindamandu so hostile? Would Idushu help create an alliance?