by on Feb 4, 2016

Riding down a busy road in Bengaluru… a street dog standing by the side, suckling two of her puppies… sniffing the third one, lying on its side, dead. The two carry on tugging at her teats.

weekend retreat…
how quiet this world
outside me


Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy is a psychiatrist from Bengaluru (Bangalore) India, living in England for over a decade. A trained vocalist and a composer in Indian Classical Music, he writes poetry in several languages including Kannada, Sankethi, Tamil and English. He is particularly interested in haiku, tanka and other allied genres. Many of his writings have been published in various reputed journals, and won prizes. For him, writing is not only a means of expression, but also a form of therapy to overcome day to day stress.


by on Feb 3, 2016

I can smell the sun on your skin
taste the salt sea water left
on your lips
as we lean back
into the afternoon
as though it could hold us
safely in its arms
as though nothing could pull us
out of this light

back to the dim rooms
where debt and obligation
line up in columns
long and dark enough
to occlude our dreams
and no one comes to whisper
sedition in our ears
with words strong enough
to break us back out
into the heat
into the light


Mary McCarthy has always been a writer, but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. She has only recently come to discover the vital communities of poets online, where there can be a more immediate connection between writers and readers than is usually afforded in print.


by on Feb 2, 2016



Olivier Schopfer lives in Geneva, Switzerland, the city with the huge lake water fountain. He likes capturing the moment in haiku and photography. His work has appeared in The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2014 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.


by on Feb 1, 2016

If they are right
and the ocean fills the street
I’ll shut

the door
and watch

for herring
out the window. (Schools

of silver, chandeliers
of thinning


The afterimage softly
bleeds out

into nothing,

light and line and melting


Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco lives in California’s Central Valley, where she works as a librarian. Her poems have appeared in Gnarled Oak, The Mas Tequila Review, Paper Nautilus, Word Riot, Hobart, and The Potomac Review, among others.

the heart’s trails

by on Jan 28, 2016

dried tears
leave salt tracks

shed Rorschach faces

nurture memories
from hard service
as prison guards

roller coaster hearts
fly so fast

vision blurs
breath catches

without focus
tightened muscles
cannot guide

bodies flung
at every curve

& hearts collide
without design

in a field
of dried stalks
of past loves

lies a wicker cornucopia
woven from
the hollow reeds at hand

until spring


Herb Kauderer is an associate professor of English at Hilbert College, and has published a lot of poetry. More can be found about him at


by on Jan 27, 2016

A boat shaped autumnal leaf knocks the evening window. I open the pane and inhale lungfuls of the crisp breeze.

With each season of the ochre yellows I have begun to resemble the old oak: the parchment skin and sharp increase in the number of grey hair. Earlier, I used to keep a count of those greys, but now they have proliferated beyond the self-undertaken census stage. All the same the grey cells of my brain are functioning like unlubricated cogs, rusty with the monotony of a drab routine.

The other day, I put oil in the wok on a high flame of the gas burner for deep frying and left the kitchen to answer the phone. A few minutes later the pungent smell of smoke fills the house. The flames from the wok were licking the ceiling. I tried to scrub clean whatever could be washed but the white wall putty soaked up the stubborn soot. Deeper it penetrated the surface, the more I attempted to remove it.

I feel aghast each time I enter the black-grey kitchen. In a few days time, perhaps I will get used to it just as one gets used to the lack of love.

wedding ring…
the white mark it leaves
on my finger


Yesha Shah lives in Surat, India with her family. Poetry has long since been her passion. She started writing Haiku and allied genres about two years back. Her verses have found place in various online and print journals.

The Lesson

by on Jan 26, 2016

(Watch Natalie d’Arbeloff’s video of “The Lesson” on Vimeo)


Natalie d’Arbeloff was born in France, has British and American nationality and lives in London. She is a painter/writer/printmaker/book artist and sometimes makes other things. Her work is in public and private collections internationally. Visit her at her online at and Blaugustine.


by on Jan 25, 2016

the bird inside me flaps tight beneath my skin, scratches
with tiny claws at my insides, tells me that the only reason
I’m not a sack of deflated skin lying empty by the side of the street
is that it’s just too small and tired to break free. I take a deep breath
force the thing inside me still with the pressure of my inflated lungs.

sometimes at night, I can feel the wings of the tiny bird inside me
slipping into place just behind my shoulder blades, feel pinfeathers
stretch all the way down the front of my arms, and I whisper
no, you can’t have me yet. I hold the wings and claws and feet and pointed beaks
tight and still and quiet inside me, murmur promises of a day
when I’m so old and tired myself

that there’ll be nothing left to hold it all in.


Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minnesota, since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Oyez Review, SLAB, and Gargoyle, while her newest poetry book, Ugly Girl, just came out from Shoe Music Press.

Black Sun Rising

by on Jan 22, 2016

Black Sun Rising


Darrell Urban Black is a visual artist living and working in Frankfurt, Germany. He was born in Brooklyn, New York. His artistic pursuit started at an early age, around five years, and he has been creating artwork ever since. In the past, he had many local, national and international group art exhibitions having artwork permanently displayed in a number of  art galleries, museums and other institutions in America and Germany. See more of his work on his artist website.