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January 15, 2019 |
in Fiction |
admininfin8 |
0
On the one year anniversary of Allison’s assault, the garbage man—he preferred this title to “sanitation worker”— saw, as he was emptying a trash can into the dump bed of the...
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January 15, 2019 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
/>after Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens these days everything inside me feels newborn and peeling i am trying to imagine all the ways you will break me i will break myself trying to be...
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January 14, 2019 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
(The North American Pink Lady Slipper) Near slow moving water a crowd of lady slippers gathers in the woods this Saturday in June. Tripping over their green skirts, they carry with them...
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January 14, 2019 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Too many paths. Feet twitch to tread on each river stone. The lizard’s precise pose congratulates my eye: well-honed, human, you could nearly believe you were born to all this...
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January 13, 2019 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Naked bushes still shiver like kids on a beach, teeth chattering, fingers turning blue. Winter has overstayed her welcome, again, the guest who won’t leave after the nightcap....
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October 7, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
MOTHER, MY ASHES My house burned and now your ashes are mingled with those of my home— beds and scraps of poetry and walls. The April skies are a blue hum that turns to gray water...
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June 3, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
I thirst and thirst but never drown, can’t help but to swallow the things I’d forgotten were tucked in cheek and under tongue. It plagues me daily. Where do they go if not my...
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May 31, 2018 |
in Art & Photography |
admininfin8 |
0
The Burning Man, a festival that takes place in the Black Rock Desert of northwest Nevada, suggests life is full of surprises, outliers, and shamanic visions of what life could hold...
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May 30, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Pause here at the flower stand-mums and gladiolas, purple carnations dark as my heart. We are preparing for a war, and I want to drag home any distraction I can carry. Tonight...
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March 29, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
SOOT OF A YOUNG STAR But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and what he touches. –Emerson, from...
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March 16, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Hollow-hearted, hollow-handed, they went hungry up the mountains, branch by branch taking down the trees. The poor people of Haiti cut them down for coal, uprooting, deforesting,...
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March 16, 2018 |
in Creative Nonfiction & Memoir |
admininfin8 |
0
“Oh I don’t see color… ” Please for the love of god STOP SAYING THAT! YOU DO SEE COLOR!!!! You’re supposed to, as per direct orders from the universe!...
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March 16, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Iridescence born of irritation, the traditional gift marking thirty years of marriage. “Never much cared for pearls,” she says, taking a drag on the lipstick- stained cigarette...
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March 15, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
AS A GHOST I’LL MAKE SURE THAT YOU’LL KEEP ON RUNNING INTO ME BACK AND FORTH, IN SOME SHAPE AND FORM WE WILL BE…” I think she was hoping he was really a gardener....
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March 15, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
I love the rain when the rain fills the river, when the rain fills the river, and the river starts to run, and the willow branches read the braille of raindrops on the surface, and ducks,...
[new_royalslider id="17"]
Ana Flores is a sculptor and ecologist. Her work is informed by how pla
2 Poems
Let Me Straddle Your Mind
The Crusader
Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back
it was important to me
Kwame Dawes
1
Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun
shacks, where the road loses its way
to dirt and live 
[new_royalslider id="11"]
Courtesy of the artist and Mizuma Art Gallery
"Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to lea
Junot' Diaz
and Edison, NJ
The first time we try to deliver the Gold Crown the lights are on in the house but no on
Elegy & Poem
"We are all the other."
…and find inside a picture,
of myself as a child, sitting
on a small chair, wearing overalls
an
Raphael Perez
To Alex, on turning two
Some say the Ring of Brogar
is the Circle of the Moon.
There is n
March on Washington
An Interview with Cheryl Evans
In a strange twist of what seemed
like reverse vandalism, the Graffiti
Mecca was painted over. 
Forest Gander
A Translation
Quassan Castro, poem
Grandson to Grandmother
Wynwood Walls, of Miami has been called "a Museum of the Streets."
Low like the mean dream
of Newark the sky must
have seemed to its builders.
Rickety now, unhingin
At last, the extremes
of his present methods
seemed to offer
the happiest avenues.
The strengthe
5th Limb
Poems
Poem, Knot
Poem, Look This Way
Xue Du, Poem
A woman in a black kimono dyed black hair
disappeared behind a black curtai
Poem:
Behind the War On Women
Maria Mizzotti-Gillan
Short Story
Pilar Fraile Amador
poem
Lady Haiti
David Trinidad
Landzy Theodore
Angelo Nikolopoulos
