A poetry collection by Renee Drummond-Brown

Black Bodies ‘Swangin’ Abel Meeropol proclaims strange fruit’s common in the South. But Father, on this very day the North, East and West practices ‘summadat’ same ole same ole mess. Yeah, I’d say on any given “Holiday” Billie that ‘iz’; them black holes been ‘sportin’ ‘SUM’ strange fruit at its best these days. The more…

The Resident Poet – by Tony Milligan

(An everyday tale of biker folk.) Big bad Bob sashayed into the Biker bar ‘Evenin’ y’all’ he said to no one in particular then he burped, farted and weaved his way to the bar. ‘Hey, let’s have a goddamn beer over here’ he bawled. A beer appeared served by a nervous bar keep. Bob looked…

Memories – by Henrietta Ross

Sun can make or break the school holidays. It has always seemed temperamental to me, even when small. Sometimes without warning, it cloaked your day, leading to those warm honeyed memories of childhood that stay with you into old age. The sort that will pitch you under a checked blanket at eighty-five, sitting in a…

An Urgent Note on the Floor – by Maria L. Berg

Something touched her ankle. Grace reached down without looking and retrieved a ball of crumpled paper. She peeled it open and flattened it without a thought to what the paper might contain or why it was discarded under her usual table. She methodically ironed out the creases with the fleshy side of her hand while…

Sixty-Six Minutes – by R.E Hengsterman

Inside my head, a mental timer ticked – Eight hours thirty-two minutes A half dozen times I said to her, “Nothing special, please.” In the trash Post-it notes, familiar names and numbers, along with her increased cell phone activity suggested she was preparing otherwise. “Laura from yoga,” my wife would say. A part of me…

Love Struck – by Carolyn Ward

I met him in the Nineteenth Hole, a rather sticky bar at the end of the course.  He was a flash of colour in a black and white photograph, and his smile across the fake wood and drippy metal had twisted my heart like a dishrag. Love and golf became who we were, playing every…

Flash fiction collection by Don Tassone

Old Habits For years, the paperboy tossed their newspaper onto their driveway before six. He was always the first one up.  Every morning, he went outside to get the paper for her before he left for work. He no longer takes the paper.  But he still reaches for the door and starts making two cups…

A poetry collection – by Catherine Moscatt

Silence My mind is a machine that cannot rest A tool that always overheats Constantly whirring Constantly humming Like a house on the corner Of two busy streets There’s never quiet Never peace I see it But it’s out of reach Confusion, noise, it’s all I know A flower buried by the snow I’m suffocated…

Because She Asked Him – by H R Green

As Curtis waits in his blue Chevy Impala, he asks himself the question that’s haunted him for twenty years: How did she drown if her lungs stayed dry? The smoke from his cigarette drifts out an inch of open window and turns a deeper yellow in the sodium arc lights. It’s close to midnight when…

Lunar Anachronism – by Joshua Scully

“A team made the discovery about the same time the accident occurred,” Bengoetxea explained. “I was notified, but I didn’t report because of the confusion.” “I see,” Moore replied. “Seeing is believing,” Bengoetxea said, with an uncharacteristic grin visible through his visor. The ilmenite mine manager wasn’t usually much given to clichés, and no one…

Photography by Kyle Hemmings

*** Kyle Hemmings has art work in The Stray Branch, Euphenism, Uppagus, Black Market Lit, and elsewhere. He loves pre-punk garage bands of the 60s, Manga comics, urban photography and French Impressionism.