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So far The Editor has created 342 blog entries.
25 05, 2024

How We Save Others Whilst Dying

2026-06-10T20:36:45-04:00May 25, 2024|

by Vikki C.

 

I watch you filling a crystal decanter with amber
and only hope to leave with the simplest kinds of sorrow:

The one which rides every train south, past the cemetery,
the lakes out east oiled with an exquisite colour spectrum,
or the frost on violets in the valley you cannot cross.

It is like seeing the deer passing through a white field
that was not there before us. Or claiming a miracle.

Men travel away to grow into boys with a thirst for beauty.
Women stay put, waiting for lost boys to return.

Like a placeholder for faith or something immeasurable.
Like the sting of pine air near the station where you vanished.

Where we keep falling in love through wet carriage windows
— the yellow flax beyond, giving flame to a coldness we could not hold.

When I die, I hope to be surrounded by books of poets I’ve never met.
The doors to this end left ajar as life seeks me out again—
silk butterflies whirring above my face with caution.

Because I have not drunk in ninety days, this makes it a wilderness
with no bread or warm body to sleep with. The snow is cold aspirin for survivors.
I drink it with all its traces—of blood, salt and humility.

So that in the musk of my last hour, the bees will hover above my open mouth,
motioning of honey—without entering the place where the war began.

 

 

 


Vikki C. is a British-born, award nominated writer, poet and musician. She is the author of The Art of Glass Houses (Alien Buddha Press) and the full-length collection Where Sands Run Finest (DarkWinter Press). Vikki’s poetry and stories appear or are forthcoming in venues such as EcoTheo Review, ONE ART Poetry, The Belfast Review, Psaltery & Lyre, Dust Poetry Magazine, Black Bough Poetry, Nightingale & Sparrow, Ice Floe Press, Acropolis Journal, DarkWinter Literary Magazine, Across The Margin, The Broken Spine, Boats Against The Current, Fevers of The Mind, Jerry Jazz Musician, Origami Poems, Mythic Picnic, Loft Books, Salo Press, Igneus Press, Lazuli Literary Group, The Write-In (National Flash Fiction Day) and various other places. Vikki is on Twitter @VWC_Writes.

19 05, 2024

The Watch War

2026-06-10T20:39:58-04:00May 19, 2024|

by Kyle Newman

 

When the sun comes up
I speedwalk backwards
to a tall cover crop.

Sprint with my wife
through a life cycle of corn
just to slow time.

Order doctors to
cut out my mind’s
eighty-millisecond buffer
so now I see in pure azaleas
and dogwoods and

horses growing old
and breakable, sons
outgrowing gloves, meteors
flaming at random over
a weathered marbleyard

and an old man
sitting in the kitchen with
a gray dog at his feet
and bare wrists

and dawn streaking through,
daydreaming about
how long it takes
a fence post to split.

 

 

 


KG Newman is a sportswriter for The Denver Post. His first four collections of poems are available on Amazon and he has been published in scores of literary journals worldwide. The Arizona State University alum is on Twitter @KyleNewmanDP and more info and writing can be found at kgnewman.com. He is the poetry editor of Hidden Peak Press and he lives in Hidden Village, Colorado, with his wife and three kids.

18 05, 2024

September

2026-06-10T20:40:13-04:00May 18, 2024|

by Satya Dash

 

Waking up,
you realize some passions are long
gone, and it is at once arduous to count
the ones that didn’t fall
prey to time. You teach your sister a mental
trick to calculate percentages faster and she teaches
you back—it is not all about numbers. If you begin
to self-loathe, days start vanishing right at the stroke
of noon. Every squall of rain
grows icy in your glass
of whiskey. If you go on wanting
to please everybody, a good friend said, you will grow
into a demon. A second cup of tea warms
the cinders of your first
cup of coffee. Caught in traffic, someone sneers
at their doppelganger before the odd twitch
of self-recognition; someone reveals a secret
to a stranger during a casual conversation at the bus
stop; you scroll twitter and develop
an obsession with the seven-day
moving average of deaths
in the city. You switch off
your phone and sleep, slipping painless
into dreams where you meander door to door
selling books. Once by accident, you show up
at the house of someone you used
to be in love with
and give away all
your books. The way you separated from them
is the way you shall wake up tomorrow—startling
for water by the bed, moaning softly
into damp diagonal stripes
of the pillow cover.

 

 

 


Satya Dash is a recipient of the Srinivas Rayaprol Poetry Prize and a finalist for the Broken River Prize. His poems appear in Ninth Letter, Denver Quarterly, Poet Lore, Prairie Schooner, Cincinnati Review, and Diagram, among others. Apart from having a degree in electronics from BITS Pilani-Goa, he has been a cricket commentator. He has been nominated previously for Pushcart, Nina Riggs Poetry Award, Orison Anthology, and Best New Poets. He grew up in Cuttack and now lives in Bangalore, India. He tweets at: @satya043.

12 05, 2024

Dark Sister

2026-06-10T20:40:24-04:00May 12, 2024|

by Catherine Arra

 

You arrive in concrete clouds.
Queen of unstable conditions:
joy skyrockets, a lightning flush. This love.

Unruly winds, low-pressure dread,
flash floods spin me down ocean depths.
Queen of unstable conditions:

you flatten in silence, salty.
The weight of water welcomes no weight at all.
Flash floods spin me down ocean depths.

I flick my caudal fin, swell fish-gill cheeks,
shine glossy green eyes. Home in undulating tides,
the weight of water welcomes no weight at all.

Doze away days above. Mask the mood.
I curl into beds of coral, commune with sea lions,
shine glossy green eyes. Home in undulating tides,

the barnacled gold of vessels sunk.
You arrive in concrete clouds.
I curl into beds of coral, commune with sea lions,
joy skyrockets, a lightning flush. This love.

 

 

 


Catherine Arra is the author of four full-length poetry collections and four chapbooks. Recent work appears in Anti-Heroin Chic, Unbroken, Impspired, Poetica Review, Piker Press, and Rat’s Ass Review. Arra is a native of the Hudson Valley in upstate New York, where she lives with wildlife and changing seasons until winter when she migrates to the Space Coast of Florida. Arra teaches part-time and facilitates local writing groups. Find her at catherinearra.com.

11 05, 2024

Don’t Hold It All In

2026-06-10T20:40:36-04:00May 11, 2024|

by K Weber

 

Ready the metaphorical sawback machete.
Back-track to scouting, campsite preparation.

You are the scamp of the earth-ends: been
through worst-ends; scrimped and scrappy.

Crimped posture-trudged, you made yourself
smaller than a pin’s head and just as quiet.

You have breath-held and lingered long
as an ellipsis… waiting to wade across water.

But the cost was too high to keep things running,
electric, after you leapt through kitchen’s fire.

Then you coughed the singed crust of ovens,
this planet. Kept going. Started your own blaze.

Called it light despite hands that needed you
to know hurt. Backpack sags with red memories.

They drag along what was once a tube
of lipstick, credit cards. Now knives and knives.

They got too close. What stung worse when
they finally ran away from you running away?

What if the earth pauses, pregnant, but still-
born. We just wait. We plan our next escape.

A ripple might wash us away, muddily, uneasily,
to the next chance at survival. Or we slide away.

And that pin was pulled from a grenade.

 

 

 


K Weber is an Ohio writer with 10 online books of poetry. She obtained her Creative Writing BA in 1999 from Miami University. K writes independently and collaboratively, having created poems from words donated by more than 300 people since 2018. K has poems featured in publications such as The Hooghly Review, Writer’s Digest, Fevers of the Mind & her photography/digital collages appear in literary journals including Barren Magazine and Nightingale & Sparrow. Much of K’s work (free in PDF and some in audiobook format) and her publishing credits are on her website: kweberandherwords.com.

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