Well Worn Chair by Ahrin Lee For four days, the leg of the well-worn chair (Which rests in the corner of the well-worn room) has been hiding, sheltered in the cold arms of working cousins. An unfinished repair of a chair who sighs  and sinks, propped unceremoniously on a wall, who too has long forgotten the days of fresh paint and care. The...

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Resurrection by Wendy Hao in spite of everything, the question still remains: “what now?” the pillar you’ve been working on has been abandoned, the gods don’t need you anymore. say goodbye to your neo-pantheon, your half-built leg for polyphemus. little mortal, with sweat dripping down a sore back, say goodbye to those hurtful family sayings and those colorful loss-grief legends. gunpowder running across...

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Empty-handed by Theresa Abalos "I like the ocean," I say An offhand reply to an offhand question A lie I need the ocean – I crave the music Of silver waves on silver shores, That tragic, relentless beauty that takes me captive Every time The waves grasp my ankles They reach again and again for the shore  Whose silence scorns them to waltz away Empty-handed My feet sink...

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Three Feet by Starr Jiang Three feet. The distance between Phil’s worn leather loafers and the cherry red pumps beside him. The odd space between his sweaty hand, so sweaty that he could feel the wet dripping through his trousers onto his thighs, and her hand, crumpled in the folds of her floral skirt. She did that when she didn’t know what to...

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A Stroll through Castile Woods by Unknown Author The minstrel shouldered his flute and looked warily around him. Through the thick  woven canopy of sweeping branches and trembling leaves, he sensed a decline in the air that told  him night was coming. Furthermore: a cold, mercilessly dark night. “Well, I reckon we ought to set up camp sometime soon,” PM ventured. His dark ...

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Spaces Between Us by Starr Jiang You asked me once how far the distance stretched Between you and me. I could not answer. Sometimes we’re the image two lovers etched; We’re catching our breaths as hazy cancer Almost leaves the soft Manhattan skyline. Then the scaffolding drowns in Hudson’s streams, Revealing two souls lost amid the brine - In castles that honed American...

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