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Table of Contents: Issue 3
Letter from the Editor coffeehouse window seat.Taryn Dixon Monster at the Cliff EdgeAlicia Fitton Parallax Mark Gilbert Tale EverlastingFanni Sütő The Editor Has Come UnMoored In TimeNeil Willcox*Accompanied by My Desk by Marilyn Whitehorse* A Moment Lasts Forever Christina Tang-Bernas I Break the Witch’s HourglassDecember Lace Time of SandAmélie Olaiz (translated…
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Shatterback by Gary Power
Shatterback is like putting your face through a pane of glass, and then the stench of stagnant pond water fills your lungs. It makes you feel unreal, as though nothing in the world matters, like you’re balancing on a knife-edge of emotions, mainly despair tinged with utter desolation. And then…
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Mr. Edwards’ Dog by Michael Neal Morris
His coat was a mix of yellow and brown, and he had eyes of two different colors, one blue, and one darkish yellow. He had been Mr. Edwards’ only roommate and companion for the past seven years, attending to him in the mornings during walks, which people around were never…
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Creative Study: Fabrice Poussin
Artist Statement: Any artist should always look for what others may not be able to see. They may not enjoy the time to walk around the world and admire the details that surround them wherever they go. They may not have the luxury of days on their own when they…
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Mythology by Christina Strigas
I’m half-poet, half-moon.The mythology of women.I’m half-poet, half-sun.The mythology of men. I wanted to be a poetsince I first read Shakespeare. I wrote poems for dead poetsknees deep in other’s wordsit’s not so much a dead poet’s societybut more of a cult followingfor the living. I found another muse—myself. Followed…
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Dark Coat and Smoke Rings by Rachele Salvini
It’s him. I know it’s him. I don’t know why, but I’m sure. His hair is combed back and he’s smoking a cigar, blowing out smoke rings. He has big, black eyes, as I’ve seen before in my mirror. He’s young, around thirty maybe, wearing a long, dark coat, and he…
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Land Army Camouflage by Juliette van der Molen
she seeks refuge in pastoral,promises of a safer passagewhere planes still fly over–but this time, the target doesn’tinclude her. still there’s nosolace, not for a woman witha sweetheart left behind in secret. she pines in whipcord breeches,hands blistered from a harvestpulled by the root for winter, thesewomen strong, not as…
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Waste by Lucy Whitehead
One day they rose up out of the primordial ooze, the new primordial ooze of the wasteland which we had left strewn over the earth, from shiny tangled places of tin cans and value meal trays, slick with oil, squelching and rustling over the carcasses of dead seagulls and poisoned whales. Their…
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Blue by Agampreet Kalra
They say the blue is underneath the brownThat the brown is only a coveringIs it true that the warm soup within your eyesIs skyAmidst the wilderness of the universe,Do they notice if a star is less milky Or does its destination lieBeneath the dark,To the wolfs of the blue. ____________________________________________________________ Agampreet…
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coffeehouse window seat. by Taryn Dixon
there are days I remember better than others. most of them are here, in this place, in this spot— with you. late night chats over cups of overdressed coffee. my hands shook from caffeine and sugar or maybe it was from you. the memories of us stay imbedded in window…