Father’s pigeons. Fiction by Sherzod Artikov

Father’s pigeons Translated from Uzbek into English by Nigora Dedamirzayeva “This is the place that you told,” the driver said. The taxi came to a halt near the edge of the road. I looked around from inside the car. The view – the edifice with two green cupolas and myriad pigeons around them appeared inContinue reading “Father’s pigeons. Fiction by Sherzod Artikov”

Histograms. A poem by Dr. Rubeena Anjum

Histograms histograms show city mounted on a graph stormy grey clouds perched on skyscrapers pillars of isolation stand at 90 degrees friendless patios braving bipolar weather elevators pass through the curtained glass penthouses to down below are inmates barely talking, not even to themselves towering flat-chest avenues, yawning at night, quadrilateral lights watch looming shadowsContinue reading “Histograms. A poem by Dr. Rubeena Anjum”

The Torch That We Never Saw. A poem by Mansour Noorbakhsh

The Torch That We Never Saw (A prayer for Afghans and Afghanistan after brutal Taliban advance while American soldiers and diplomats are leaving Afghanistan.) The water hit us like the hard rocks. The darkness engulfed us by the violent waves when we heard the boat breaking and we saw the light of the bullets towardsContinue reading “The Torch That We Never Saw. A poem by Mansour Noorbakhsh”

Sloshing sound of a flowing river. A poem by Bhuwan Thapaliya

Sloshing sound of a flowing river Through my window, filthy clouds of dust reel in from the graveled lanes of an offended city. It distorts my sights, soaks my shirt with filth, churns my stomach and infuriates me all the time. It is not just the denseness of the air or the stench of theContinue reading “Sloshing sound of a flowing river. A poem by Bhuwan Thapaliya”

Yours. Fiction by Bruce Meyer

Yours A salutation is gesture of sincere utterance that either says hello or offers a goodbye. The sign off defines a relationship. ‘Yours sincerely,’ is business-like, professional, cold, and objective. It offers no warmth. It leaves one with the feeling that what has come before was merely a transaction, a letter to the electric companyContinue reading “Yours. Fiction by Bruce Meyer”

All Shook Up. Non-fiction by Paul Germano

All Shook Up Ring, ring, ring, ring. Roughly 44 years ago (August 16, 1977, to be exact), my landline rang and Nancy was on the other end. Nancy didn’t even bother to say hello. Instead she blurted out, “Elvis is dead.” I was, and still am, a big fan of Elvis Costello, so I immediatelyContinue reading “All Shook Up. Non-fiction by Paul Germano”

Standing Like That. A poem by Michał Choiński

Standing Like That The stone is small and irregular. It feels like a growth on the inside of the palm. The muscles flex as you clutch it. Glimpsing sideways, you realize that you probably don’t have the aim like the others. So, standing like that, you just want to eject that thing you’re holding atContinue reading “Standing Like That. A poem by Michał Choiński”

On Reading Travel Documents. A Poem by Monica Manolachi

On Reading Travel Documents My full name means I am still alive. This photograph means I’ve crossed a desert and a sea to get here. This date of birth means beginnings are usually scary. This place of birth means fear is always looking for a nest. This number is someone forced to abandon their homeContinue reading “On Reading Travel Documents. A Poem by Monica Manolachi”

The Right to Privacy. A poem by Elizabeth Poliner

The Right to Privacy “We have had many controversies over these penumbral rights of ‘privacy and repose.’” Justice Douglas, Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479 (1965) Winter, years ago, at a Washington D.C. gala— a celebration for a friend—and who else is there but Sandra Day O’Connor, swinging with her husband on the dance floor.Continue reading “The Right to Privacy. A poem by Elizabeth Poliner”

How Do Rainbows Fall, exactly? A poem by Rhonda Melanson

How Do Rainbows Fall, exactly? (In Memory of the Afzaal Family in London, Ontario) When we contemplate the felling of rainbows how they balloon above boulevards collapse in tragic layers we fade to Kristellnacht by the traffic lights a cut scene where colorful victims bleed out thin bands of mayday from their broken window spiritsContinue reading “How Do Rainbows Fall, exactly? A poem by Rhonda Melanson”