by Bill Foley
Dale stood frozen in the parking lot of the Essex Nursing Home like a decorative plant. Where am I? He felt the strong grip of a hand on his elbow leading him back inside.
“Come on, Mr. Malone. It’s time for Bingo in the recreation room,” the attendant said.
Dale tried to resist but the man holding his arm would not be deterred.
“I want to go home. I have to feed my dog, Teddy.”
“This is your home Mr. Malone. You don’t have a dog.”
“No one’s home. I gotta feed him.”
Read More »by Samantha Moe
I miss threadingRead More »
my fingers through
my problems, my
hair, my god
you remember
the magic?
by Ariana Duckett
I wonder where I’d be without her. In a library, scanning the blurbs of books I’d never read. Halfway through a tunnel, unsure which side I came from. Playing with my hair to prove I was worthy of it, for the burden of the female condition can only be shouldered by some.
Read More »by Dave Nash
I saw you waiting at the front of the platform, I inched up closer. I hung behind the other commuters who allowed me anonymity. I strained for a better look.
I saw you on a good day, a lucid moment from my ennui; yesterday I would have put my head in my phone and waited for the train to pull in.
Read More »by Megan Wildhood
I can hear it from the edge of the dark wood,
but I have to come to its brim to feel
the back and forth of the sea.
by Lungmying Lepcha
the whisp of summer air
smell of diesel between the congested road
the last bit of sun setting
hot beads of sweat tickling down the neck
and the long summer talks
of the wish to go back
grab a cup of ice water
sinking on a chair
near the balcony
with a plate of hot samosas
and ranting about the heat
which seems
unbearable for the hills
the cool breeze awaits to cover the town with its blanket
at night
the sudden signs of rain
thunder clashes it
only to find
a bright day the next morning
With the end of summer, we’re re-starting our monthly prompts!
We invite you to send us your thoughts in form of writing or visual art or basically anything, on the theme of utopia.
Below are a few questions to inspire you.
Read More »by Ramona Gore
Emi exhaled into the night, her breath quickly condensed by the cold air. She buried her icy hands even deeper into her pockets in an attempt to regain some warmth in her fingertips. Her cheeks had surely turned pink by now and the padding in her thick coat provided little relief from the brick wall she leaned against. Just as she was about to call it quits, he stepped out of the doorway she stood next to.
Read More »
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