By Claudia Serea
of patrols in the street,
Hurry up, shiver, Be quiet,
December of listening to the radio
for clues, volume down,
and at night, listen to gunshots
and … Continue reading→
By Victor D. Infante
I’ve been looking at photographs from the ’80s, all the black clothing and wild hair. My friends and I were young then – in our teens and early 20s — but looking back, there was a … Continue reading→
To The Mother Of My Enemy
By Scott Woods
Here how he died: looking up at stars.
every constellation winking out
until only eternity left to mourn.
No angel came down for him.
His mouth … Continue reading→