By María Castro Domínguez
I dreamt you were the only one
in your house,
a few months after that I saw
all the world
and all its people laughing,
a party was going on
in a fast food restaurant a birthday cake
was divided into portions,
there was more than enough
By Wallace Lane
I do not
need to hear the world is ending
to know that the thrill of something good
is no more.
By Bernard Horn
Consider your so-called life, that is,
if your hemming and hawing between
stolen life and pre-life, stolen life and pre-life
can be dignified by that term. Sure, there are
adjectives we living beings are driven
to apply to you: rapacious, single-minded,
flexible, dogged, but that’s just how we are,
driven to deny the nothing that is not there,
while you, like a snowman, do not see a thing.
By Paula Moore
This is a love letter to everyone who did not remodel the bathroom, learn a new language, or write a book during the pandemic. To everyone who wants to hold on to the lessons learned but is just trying to hold it together. To everyone who met the loneliness and loss sometimes with grace and sometimes by binge-watching Tiger King.
By Judith Mendoza-White
on twos and zeros insolent with power.
It frets in graphs of lives and deaths,
in curves that must be flattened,
in figments of plans delayed
to a future hollow with maybes,
betrayed by frozen hours
pulsating with religious or pagan zeal
with gods surprised
By Steve Pottinger
more uncomfortable than ever
this wasn’t how she imagined
life would be and she curses
her luck, the virus, this new normal
where shops not clubs have bouncers on the door
everyone hitting the dance-floor
in the canned veg aisle to a soundtrack of
our colleagues are working hard
in difficult circumstances…
By Evon Wheeler
I hadn’t know loneliness until a stranger said hello
for months now, I’m met with averted eyes,
people swiftly crossing the road, to avoid all human contact.
empty blue hands line bleak pavements,
as tendril arms grab forward, the weeds are taking over
a smile, disguised behind a masked face,
muffling their greeting
By Doug Sandle
Their work is done, the pestilence and pandemic has finished,
the drumbeats of death stilled, and the apocalyptic detritus
of destruction cleared. They came determined,
though not swiftly charging on horses,
but meticulously and mechanically
on old tractors, mocking our new technologies.
By Meiling Cheng
Once upon a time, there were dinosaurs.
They roamed the Earth as giants. They
ate everything, from vegetations to
dragonflies, from gazelles to tigers, to mineral deposits in
hard rocks, to their own babies. They combated
each other for sports. They wrestled with the
pre-Olympian Titans. They threatened to
dinosaurize the million futures of
By Matt Travers and Manolis Kapazoglou
Matt Travers is a writer and translator based in Aarhus, Denmark, whose recent work can be found in 3:AM Magazine, Zarf Poetry, Overground Underground, Firmament, Asymptote and Tripwire Journal. He is currently working on the English translation of Søren Fauth’s ‘Moloch: The Story Of My Rage’.
By David Newkirk
the echoes reverberate
as they dream of dancing through the field
their bodies covered in flowers.
By Annette Gagliardi
We ate the last of the peanut
butter yesterday. I used up
the Almond milk on half-cup
of Harvest Bakery granola, which
wasn’t as good as I’d hoped
it would be, so, there won’t
be hot cocoa tomorrow,
or pancakes for that matter:
no eggs, no sugar, no batter mix.
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