By John Grey

Dress like undertakers,
drop from phone wires
to the roadkill below –
their caw is light on melody,
high on triumph –

I still have
the record
she left behind
though I haven’t
seen her in years.

I play it
from time to time,
think of her
now and again.

Do them both together
and I run the risk
of dancing.

Lolls all day
in a beat-up rocker
outside a rusty trailer,
drinking and cackling away.
He has no kids of his own
to ask what he did in the war.
If he did,
they wouldn’t have to ask.

Bio: John Grey’s work has recently appeared in Front Range Review, Studio One and Columbia Review. He has work upcoming in Naugatuck River Review, Abyss and Apex and Midwest Quarterly.



By Hugo Jay

A calm sea against sandy beaches
Rolling hills
A cloudless sky
Flower-filled meadows and warm breezes and sunshine

The crickets chirp to say goodbye to the sun
And the birds chirp to greet it
Worry is gone
Fear is gone
All is peaceful and quiet and clear and bright

Muscles relaxed
Breathing steady
I bathe in the light of a new day
The animals calm
And the air whispers in my ear

I am free

It’s Just a Little Dream


By Ivor Steven

I’ve been waiting inside,
For that never-never ride.
Wishing for that little shrug,
To turn into a dream-time hug.

I’ve been waiting outside,
Trying not to hide.
Wishing for that little smile,
To travel one more mile.

I’ve been waiting all day,
Calling out, please stay.
Wishing for that little heartbeat,
To lay down at my feet.

I’ve been waiting all night,
For that one-way flight.
Wishing for that little dove,
To glide over my love.

I’ve been waiting, seems forever,
Crying quietly, oh whatever.
Wishing for that little embrace,
To become my last dance.



By Joshua Stoll

Teri found it comforting to watch the other shoppers pass by during her morning coffee. It was as much a part of her daily routine now as the coffee itself.

Today, several people stood out. Among them, an elderly man pushing a simple white pram through the crowds, a beautiful infant just visible beneath the blankets, fast asleep.

The child’s grandfather, most likely.

Teri watched him as they disappeared around a corner, vanishing forever from her life.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later that a desperate, distressed cry nearby interrupted Teri’s coffee.

“Please! Has anyone seen my baby?”

Where I’m From


By Nacklo

Tell me where I’m from.
Explain the culture that made me,
the genes that gave me a kufi instead of shades.
Never been into meadowlarks or glades
yet I appreciate the romantics.
Poets that paved the way.

You see no one is born a slave,
but restricted humanity breeds partiality to your own kind.
Be careful what truths you accept into your mind.
If you let assumptions lead,
you might be disgusted by what you find.
Perhaps it’s semantics,
logical gymnastics that bind,
but if anyone could be summed up in one word it would be Human.