[Fiction] Summers — Maria Schiza

“The summer had ebbed away into autumn and there were no warning signs, although if there were, I failed to see them, and the fact of it was what remained.”

[Poetry] — John Moessner

“Maybe clapping is the remnant of a desperate act/of early humans, drought-worn and itching/for a salve-a storm- inviting it by calling its name”

[Poetry] — Jorge López Llorente

“No, the new heat death from textbooks,/
rather than that intangible entropy,/
arrives – literal, not paradoxical;/
on trees, not paper; cold-blooded, not cold”

[Poetry] — Raymond Miller

“Discovered letters she once wrote/in that unsteady girlish hand;/unsheathe each from its envelope,/ignore the cracking of his throat/for he would not be thought unmanned.” 

[Poetry] — Michael Sutton

“Looking from the pavement into a star starved sky I slither./
The car which from distance seemed blanketed kitschly in leaves/
I soon see bashed with slate and bricks felled by night winds.”

[Poetry] — John Grey

“You could call this chemistry./
But I prefer geography,/rivers that flow together,/form this cozy delta.”

[Fiction] Varii Graffiti – Michael Paul Hogan

“One night I drained off another glass, two glasses, three, and unbuttoned my trousers and urinated over a canvas of snow-layered slate, a quotation from Rimbaud

[Review] The Year in Books 2021 – James McLoughlin

“As always, reading gives us the chance to escape, to imagine different worlds with exciting possibilities. Or sometimes it simply reflects the extant world back at us from an angle we have never seen ourselves. Either way, when you spend 99% of your time within the same four walls, reading is simply a way to avoid going postal.”