by on Sep 12, 2017

There is a skeleton
in the bathroom mirror:
starved and sexless.
So hollow I use her
clavicles and ilia
as percussion instruments.

Maybe I should be scared
of her wooden smile,
and empty glances.
But strangers stop me daily
to compliment her beauty,
and who am I to disagree?


Alixa Brobbey has loved writing since her childhood in a small Dutch town. She hopes work published in Canvas, The Battering Ram and others will lead to a career as a world-renowned author someday, but for now is content to obsess over Harry Potter and publish posts on her blog: Alixa Writes


by on Sep 11, 2017

Hollow out the darkness.
There will be a tunnel of night.

It won’t have a name,
but you will learn to call it

love-soft words as your breath
turns to glass. At the end,

someone slips you a handful
of coins. You buy fish and bread

and ale. Tomorrow you wake
to a hollowed out sun.

On your stoop, the newspaper
burns. You read through flames

until your eyes ignite.
Better, sometimes, to be blind.

The tunnel yawns as it waits
in the glossy dark to swallow your life.


Steve Klepetar lives in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. His work has received several nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize, including four in 2016. Recent collections include Family Reunion (Big Table), A Landscape in Hell (Flutter Press), and How Fascism Comes to America (Locofo Chaps).

There might have been starfish

by on Sep 6, 2017

The seas of October
were calm and

the moon hung
like a small ocean

in the sky
Little globes

of Noctiluca
spilled liquid fire

and animals tinier than
radiance sparkled visible

in the cold metal sea
It was as if

a mirror had been created
to slip through,

and so I did
as a sand grain drifting

between rain and sea moss
Under the wind

a fisherman’s oar—

Darling, if
the sky

was sustained
under water

the beauty of things
should return


Jeanie Tomasko is the author of several books of poetry, The Collect of the Day being the most recently published. Two other chapbooks are forthcoming in 2017. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband, Steve and two new beehives in the backyard.

Three Poems

by on Sep 5, 2017

ocean poem
an anemone. anonymity. sink to sea lush carpet, tentacles grasping
ungraspable gold filters, tiny algae. a vibrating star.


grass poem
wistful field mice burrowed homes around
our heat, the heat of our fingers, our breath.


sky poem
slow lick of clouds, soft pink descent.
when we were sky geese dotted our bodies like freckles; lightning crackled our veins.


Tara Roeder is the author of two poetry chapbooks, and her work has appeared in multiple venues including The Bombay Gin, THRUSH, and 3:AM Magazine.  She is an Associate Professor of Writing Studies in New York City.

On the Way to the Ocean

by on Sep 4, 2017

The black plastic bag
flutters across the street
in the spring breeze.

Bright pink and yellow candy
wrappers bloom in the grass
that belongs to no one.

Venti cups of last night’s
mocha frappucinos
roll in the gutter with empty pens

on their way to the ocean.


Marianne Szlyk edits The Song Is….  Her chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, was published by Flutter Press.  She is working on another chapbook.  Her poems appear in a variety of venues including Of/with, bird’s thumb, Solidago, Figroot Press, and Cactifur.

abandoned home

by on Sep 1, 2017


abandoned home
the weight of dust
on a cobweb


Billy Antonio is a poet, writer, and public school teacher. Some of his fiction and poetry have been published in Tincture Journal, Poetry Quarterly, Red River Review, and Anak Sastra, among others. His poetry has won international recognition. He lives in the Philippines with his wife and daughters.


by on Aug 31, 2017


Olivier Schopfer lives in Geneva, Switzerland. He likes to capture the moment in haiku and photography. His work has appeared in The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2014 & 2016, as well as in numerous online and print journals. He also writes articles in French about etymology and everyday expressions at Olivier Schopfer raconte les mots.

In the Temple

by on Aug 30, 2017

(Watch Marie Craven’s video “In the Temple” on Vimeo)

Editor’s note: From a poem by Candida Baker. Full credits at Vimeo.


Marie Craven (Queensland, Australia) assembles short videos from poetry, music, voice, stills and moving images by various artists around the world. Created via the internet, the pieces are collaborative in a way that belongs to the 21st century, with open licensing and social networking key to the process. In 2016 her video ‘Dictionary Illustrations’ was awarded best film at the Ó Bhéal Poetry-Film Competition in Ireland. To see more: