Multiple Personalities


By RLM Cooper

I often think I’m insane. I hear voices. And there are multiple personalities all trying to get out. Male. Female. Old. Young. Black. White. Some are heroes and some wanted by the police. I’ve been places no one has ever gone before. And I know things. Things no one else knows. Or will ever know. My brain aches with it all. And I’ve done things. Scary things and boring things, too. The voices speak to me. They demand to be heard. Sometimes it’s frightening. But I … excuse me a second.

“What is it, dear?”

“Your editor is on the phone!”


The Interview


By John Malone

I’m being interviewed today
For a job.
A cleaning job.
I shave, shower, put on good clothes.
Tidy the place up.
Ten minutes later his car pulls in the driveway.
He comes in, casually dressed, introduces himself.
Sits down.
Looks me over.
Asks questions. Probing questions.
I wince a little.
Relax, he says as he stands up, shakes my hand, smiles.
Now let’s see the house.
I take him through. Show him the vacuum cleaner, the mop, the bucket.
Now, he says, when would you like me to start?



By Dawne Zirley-Leight

You don’t realize this (probably)
But in you
I see the promise
of an infinite horizon and
is why
I wait.

Sometimes lately,
During quieter moments
(all-too fleeting)
I find the space to be mindful
To breathe
To choose
which warm threads will line the womb into which I crawl
And there you are
waiting also
for me.

If you see this (and
I doubt you do)
think of me
of anything
at all.



By karishmagoenka

Descending the rope

Into ever-deepening shades of blue

Releasing pressure with every foot

Leaving behind the world I come from

Dusting words and woes

Off the blackboard of my mind

Passing through the void

Into another dimension

Where silence is the norm

And sound has no source

Mind waves bend just like the light

Nothing is how it should seem

One must reforge the most basic instincts

For this is not familiar territory

Although time here is as fleeting as air

I hear the tingle in my skin whisper

Welcome home stranger

Catch Me


By Cherie

I watched you walk across the room, caught your scent from the wind gently blowing,
Smiled when you said hello, hiding my startle that you’d already come so close,
I noticed your two-second lingering stare, fought the urge to look away from your welcoming gaze.


But isn’t that what he had said, quickly welcoming me into his arms and getting into my head? Quickly twisting me and turning me like a piece of thread, causing me to come undone, I picked up my books and started to leave, hoping you would follow to catch me, and not bind me.

Six Years Later


By Dwayne Allen Thomas

We were like small-town teenagers during a blackout in the 1950s. Despite phones, text messages, email, Facebook, and FaceTime, I drove 40 minutes each way to her house. We sat in my car, talking for hours. Nearly every day. For five weeks.

It almost didn’t happen. That first night, I drove her home from an event. She said, “Nice meeting you” and “Goodbye.” Ten times in the next four hours. But she didn’t leave. At 6 o’clock, we went for breakfast. She reached for the check. I said, “I should marry you.” She still didn’t leave.

Shuffle Up


By hombrehompson

We huddle together on the bench, waiting to see if she will appear.

Markings on the gravestone are impossible to read, eroded by rain and five years of waiting. Every anniversary we hope she will visit, a sign of forgiveness to finally set us free.

As we are about to leave we hear another presence – a car pulling up nearby. We see her, flowers in hand, searching for our grave.

She finds the bench and we shuffle up to make room, despite having no need to do so.

Hombre’s work has appeared in Ellipsis Zine, The Cabinet of Heed, and is forthcoming in Spelk.