autumn chill

by on Dec 8, 2017


Debbie Strange is a Canadian short form poet, haiga artist and photographer whose creative passions bring her closer to the world and to herself. She is the author of Warp and Weft: Tanka Threads (Keibooks 2015) and the haiku collection, A Year Unfolding (Folded Word 2017). Please visit her archive of published work at

In Twos

by on Nov 30, 2017

Her glasses are on the night table. Propped up on two cushions, she is asleep, her mouth half-open, a bubble of saliva shifting on her lip with every breath. The ceiling fan purrs. A quiet room, otherwise. Tiptoeing near her bed I see a tiny fly approach her face. As if sensing it, she raises her arm, brushing against her forehead. I stop breathing. But she continues in her sleep, as if she is on a journey and this moment that just passed was but a momentary stop, a blip, a slight distraction.

no one
in the mirror
night of ghosts


Stella Pierides is a poet and writer. Her books include: Of This World: 48 Haibun (Red Moon Press, 2017) and Feeding the Doves: 31 Short and Very Short Stories (Fruit Dove Press, 2013). Her haiku and micropoetry collection In the Garden of Absence (Fruit Dove Press, 2012) received a Haiku Society of America Merit Book Award. Currently she manages the Per Diem: Daily Haiku feature for The Haiku Foundation. Find her online at

How the Grateful Dead Got Their Name

by on Nov 28, 2017

Don’t believe this story. It is fake news.
Jerry Garcia did not return from the land of the dead
with three pennies in his hand,
touched by those subtle fingers, rubbed smooth.
I didn’t free him from his coffin on the sea.
When he came to me, dressed in white,
paler than before, we didn’t walk along
the high road, we didn’t stop and go inside a church.
No princess, no dragon, no heads on spikes.
None of that happened. We sat down to drink coffee
in a Starbuck’s near my house,
though I would have preferred the Local Blend.
“The wi-fi’s better here,” he said, and anyway, he was buying.
He told me that it sucked being dead – the food is dry
and there’s no drugs – but at least he didn’t have to live
in America under Trump. Remember, this is fake news
made up by that failing poet, Steve Klepetar. Sick guy. Sad.


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).

To Johannesburg, with love

by on Nov 23, 2017

(for Voldi and his love for opera)

      A flock of stars. Stars in her
      eyes. And so, I closed myself
      off to the outside world. The
      tired, miserable outside world.

And said this, that people have nothing to do with me

      and I have nothing to do with
      people but I fell in love with
      the city and the city fell in love with me. Boots, jeans and all.

The pulsing sun lit up something inside

      of me. And I finally learned what it was to walk on the kingdom
      of dry land. To clasp that

tender prize of pure rain in my hands.


Abigail George is a South African blogger, poet, short story writer, aspirant young adult novelist and playwright. She briefly studied film at the Newtown Film and Television School in Johannesburg. She received two grants from the National Arts Council, Centre for the Book and ECPACC. Her fiction “Wash Away My Sins” was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She blogs at Abigail George’s Blog.

felled branches

by on Nov 22, 2017


felled branches
the park
gets a brand new sky


Lee Nash lives in France and freelances as an editor and proofreader. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in print and online journals including Acorn, Ambit, Angle, Antiphon, Magma, Mezzo Cammin, Orbis, Poetry Salzburg Review, Presence and The World Haiku Review. Her first poetry chapbook, Ash Keys, has just been released from Flutter Press. You can find a selection of Lee’s poems on her website:

notes on bones

by on Nov 21, 2017

my sister says, last night I dreamt
of poetry
but I was naked
and hiding.
I tell her
this is poetry. she says,
I didn’t realize I was hiding
where I had already been


Audrey Gidman received her BFA from the University of Maine Farmington. Her work can be found in The Rush, The 2River View, Slippery Elm, and Smeuse, among others. She currently resides in Maine.