The age-old practice of humans, to talk to themselves, is the reason for all that we humans do. We wrap this habit in a beautiful word called…
By Scott Archer Jones
Two middle-aged half brothers kneel in front of the dish-carton as it lies on its side–their…
By N. Urja
(to keep the formatting of the first poem intact, we have added it as an image)
By Bruce McRae
A house drawn by a child.Purple and crooked windows.A big yellow sun smiling at a cloud,a single sad and silvery cloud.And what I think might be a treein a yard with a broken fence,with a pathway winding…