Their guitars stand somewhere in an empty room on American soil
Dust spots in the sun settle on their strings
Category: Contemporary Culture
An interview with Claudia Knight
Born in the heart of the Black Country, Claudia Knight is predominantly a writer who is exploring the capabilities of her creativity after moving to London and discovering the freedom in taking more risks in life. Having discovered the endless possibilities when creating digital art, her bold yet simple pieces explore her relationship with herself, her body…
TWO POEMS – Paul McCarrick
The moon will not go down again,
street lights will be on forever and drive
electricity bills into walls with no seatbelts
ONE POEM – Anna Nightingale
when a father is a control bar
made of wood
and the strings snap
the puppets fall
ONE POEM – Elizabeth Kuiper
Photo by Joseph Pearson on Unsplash Milk Crate Malady We stumble to your home, arms linked tripping over ourselves as we talk I’m guided through the front door and down the passage to your room A lone mattress on the hardwood floor A vinyl collection spilling out of green milk crates Quick thumbs roll a cigarette we take…
SHORT STORY – Tamara Lazaroff
My grandfather who was not gay was born in 1930 in Seville, Andalusia. He worked as an itinerant labourer for the señoritos, the rich landlords, tending their olive trees and their domesticated animals.
THREE POEMS – Satya Dash
There are days when my body is a forest of old pines ailing and wailing in unison
COMFORT FOODS // Dissecting the Heart of Mandu – J.A. Pak
Dissecting the Heart of Mandu The Chinese, Mongolians, Japanese, and now the Americans and Europeans are in my food, but are the Turkic nomads there as well? Intriguing and exciting. A mandu (만두) is a Korean dumpling. A savory dumpling with a filling of meat. It’s usually boiled but it can also be steamed, pan-fried,…
TWO POEMS – Nick Chlopicki
the future is ready for
our, now available,
technological improvement
ONE POEM – María Paula Currás
I’m a mess
A profaner of tombs
Devoted to graves
Except mine.
ONE POEM – Yessica Klein
we kiss good-bye;
I wait for the kettle to boil. I am
happily waiting.
TWO POEMS – Steve Denehan
Pieces of me are escaping
through the pores
in the skin
of this room
