Three
fiction by
Kathryn Megan Starks

1. He said, “It’s going to be fine,” and that’s when I knew he would kill me. We got out ofthe car.The grass was...

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The Jury Finds La Bicyclette Rouge Guilty as Charged
poem by
Jenni B. Baker

It was the five dollar and ninety-nine cent bottle of drugstore pinot noir with the faux French name and the red bicycle on the...

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Art
by
Jim Fuess

     

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Reroute
poem by
Deborah A.M. Phillips

We said we’d go to Paris - instead somewhere between the summer and fall, you found a way to improve your taste for languages...

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The Poet, the Monk, and the Prophet
poem by
Rob Currin

The Poet, the Monk, and the Prophet walked the road in the opposite direction of the two riders that approached the Joker and the...

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Blue and Darker Blue
fiction by
Kathryn Megan Starks

This high I can’t discern movement. The ocean is textured, solid. It’s a cerulean orangepeel, glittering asphalt or the hairless skin of an elephant...

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Selling Myself - a possible artist’s dilemma
prose by
Tristan Marajh

Art is selfish. It is lazy and is preaching rather than practice; I am reticent to call myself an artist. Even if for humanity...

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Just a last peg for a Jobless
poem by
Sonnet Mondal

Ashes dropping over a mug of vodka speaks of a micro-story- minutes ago. A boy sitting and sipping it, chained by silence indicates a...

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First Love
fiction by
Jerry Guarino

March 17th, 1978 (New Brunswick, N.J.) - Tony packed his green duffel bag and headed to Newark airport.  His dreams of a journalism career...

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