Ars Poetica

Ars Poetica by Ben Nardolilli His voice was sore, but he did not know it yet. As far as he could tell, Lowell’s problems were restricted to other familiar symptoms of a rough night. His head and feet both hurt. His stomach felt sick with emptiness. These he knew how to deal with. He was also sure he knew...

Hero for Hire

By Milo James Fowler              It’s like a new car or a girlfriend. Sometimes you really want something, and you want it so bad, you know your life will be ultimately complete once you get it. Well, that’s how much I’ve always wanted a Samurai sword. Blame it on Akira Kurosawa or Tom Cruise,...

Unopened Letters Sent Home : 1986 – 2061

By Asmara Malik Poetry meets prose… Monday, September 25 I’m not sure about you in this din of galaxies crashing about our feet. In your uneasy sleep you speak of a Sarhad where empty skyscrapers smolder beneath baleful suns. So compelled, I walk the silent streets of Islamabad, until dawn until...

Schroeder and Lucy, Nocturne #9

By Dolan Morgan The Peanut Gallery I was going to visit Lucy at her school, had saved up some money and gotten a plane ticket. We weren’t dating anymore, but she’d recently been dating Charlie. And he’d really changed a lot over the years. He could pop twenty-four Coricidin pills – or poor...

Triptych

By Matthew Dexter A trip…three times over. No Morning-After Pill for Madness Some call them “beauty marks,” but you see them as cancer. So you’re lying in bed well after midnight, scratching moles off your face using dirty fingernails, searching for answers. Beneath self-evident revelations:...

Satre, and Herbert

By Ibraheem Shakeel The construction was finally complete. It had taken me almost thirteen years to finish, but now it was done. I took a step back and tilted my head upwards to marvel at its height. Now they’ll never know, I thought to myself happily. The grey lines of dried cement between each layer of...