Poetry: Justice for Uwa | Abayomi Awelewa

It will never be well with them Who plucked her life at prime Seeing her young and beautiful Full of life; full of hope Defying a senseless lockdown To better her lot in life Cut short brutally by the animals Who felt entitled to her body In a house of God where she sought refuge!…

Two Poems | Ndubuisi Martins

Night is a poet’s gift You seek colour letters at noon not knowing the night is its fluent skin, crystal liquids of thoughts               straying but caught amidst the silence of beings, of hissing leaves of once noisy crickets gone early to bed so the earth hands the poet a song, to weave for days…  …

QUARANTINE COVID 19 | Daniel de Culla

Being tiny Much less than a lap It has more strength That the poison of a toad -Covid 19 Although it looks Chinese Italian is Put in royal crown Castilian. -Coronavirus It is break and tear From rubbing and scratching Kyrie eleison is out Between crying and grumbling. -Coronavirus Of the third age are Absent…

Photography | by Fabrice Poussin

Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.

Futility|by Mitchell Grabois

At age seventeen, I was a Paul Simon song: a rock, an island. I was Dostoyevskys underground man. I was Camuss Stranger, who only needed his neighbors howls of execration to complete him.  I was a zombie, undone by a woman I’d met in New Orleans. I was a diamond with a flaw, as described…

Four poems | by Ingrid Bruck

Sad Remains Coyotes crawl from the dune grass before Stella Maris Retreat is demolished. Vultures feast on the grand old hotel, peel the skin of ornate wood in the entry, dismantle the grand staircase saved from President Grant’s cottage, another causality of East Coast redevelopment. The wrecking ball thunders. Machinery clears a path through the…

Three poems | by John Grey

A TORNADO WARNING I’ll kick plywood and plaster about, slam the roadhouse into submission, use Martha’s cows for a private slam-dunk competition with a net torn from the new mayor’s three-piece suit. I’m headed from the south with winds a thousand times faster than any fairground ride, that’ll rip up Eddie’s farm supplies, enter the…

FATE AND FREEDOM | by Norbert Kovacs

The mountains ringed a wooded enclosure that contained an earthen path. A person emerged every so often from the woods by the enclosure and started on the path. At night, he lay by its side and went to sleep. He did the same the following days and nights. All the people on the path did….

Three poems | by John Grey

THE WAITING How long can someone wait for what they are waiting for? Can a day go by? A month? A year? Does checking the email in-box help? What about not checking it? If there is a set time for waiting and it runs out does the waiting for the next thing begin or is…