There was a time when slaves were shackled to oars and forced to shit where they sat. Only cash was accepted. You can look it up on the Internet, just like what decade World War I was fought. The ushers wore white tops and black bottoms and were required to stay for the entire performance. I bet you if it was today, the pain would be about the same as ever, and the smoke so thick you couldn’t tell which world was burning.


Author Bio:
Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of the forthcoming poetry collection The Middle of Nowhere (Olivia Eden Publishing). His latest chapbooks are Echo's Bones and Danger Falling Debris (Red Bird Chapbooks). He co-edits White Knuckle Press with Dale Wisely.

It is you that does so many things. You make me forget. You make me feel. You make me weak. You make me blind. It's not a good thing, because I have fallen so hard and it's all you. Weak to the point that I can't let go. Feelings to the point that I forgive you. Blind to the point that I don't see any defects in you. And this is all enough to make me forget that it was also you-- the one that hurts me. It is you who has done so many things, and I'm still here. And yet, thanks to you, I have learned to love myself before anybody else does. It is you who does these things, and it's something that I am actually thankful for. Because is something I have also learned from.


Author Bio:
I am 14-years-old, soon to be a sophomore at Segerstrom High school in California. Writing isn't just a hobby, it is also a passion for me. I hope someday my writing is recognized by many people. 

I wake up 
To a life unfolding
In the same
It has done
A thousand years ago
A faded charm
I am at the city's heart
A heart that carries its soul
I am witnessing a change
The welcome is warm
Always warm
The smiles amplify
Souls that have tormented life
For a hollow silence


Author Bio:
The poem described working women who hustle for a living. I observe life then try to write about it. Would relish the idea of writing a book but remain hopeful. Presently I am training as a mental health nurse but was a youth worker in the past and found this a useful mechanism to understand young people. 

For lack of fitting gesture of gratitude, we apologize!

For reasons more than one, I have realised,
Unworthy of your protection we are, and of your sacrifice.
Still, time and again you have responded, you have prioritized,
Acting swiftly on domestic needs, on foreign battle cries.

We thank you today for this free land, these free blue skies,
For the bricked strong wall, cemented steady with your lives. 


Author Bio:
Shaurya is a creative soul who resides in New Delhi, India. He is always in search of a medium to channelize and express himself creativity. Till date he has done it through caricatures, cartoons, clay modeling, animation and recent humble attempts at short poetry. "Smile...because you are here for a while...Live a life so agile...that you proudly stand tall on judgement day, on your trial."

                     for Joyce Carol Oates

the clouds today resemble
frozen whitecaps

enid's playing trumpet again
in the room next door

she can’t stop, the brass so reassuring -
the keeper of the shelter, not the cage

her teeth and tongue
press gently against the instrument's opening

configuring vibrations that
roil and froth

past the cat in the doorway,
the boy just out of frame

looking up
tossing his softball from left to right

sand and seawater collect themselves
in murky puddles around enid's feet

inside the periscoped ears of the boy
the cat

and the shapes inside: a music stand, an asymmetrical longing
a whitecap


Author Bio:
Hannah Coakley is urban theorist and nutritionist by trade. She spends her days deep in the labyrinth of the American food system, trying to understand how the complex tangle of food, politics, and community is best unwound. She loved writing from an early age and, after a long hiatus, rediscovered poetry as her pastime, her passion, and her most intimate relationship. She has been greatly influenced by the works of Elizabeth Bishop, Gertrude Stein, and Adrienne Rich. Some of Hannah's essays and poems can be found online at Rebelle Society. She holds a BA in Urban Studies from New York University and an MS in Public Health and Human Nutrition from Johns Hopkins University, but she is most proud of her ability to create and maintain nourishing, lifelong friendships.

Young kids searching for the fountain of youth,
Wishing to never grow old, stay forever new,
Recycling love, young hearts being reused,
Old love never dies, young love never last,
Take your notes from the wise, learn from the past


Author Bio:
Morris is a 19-year-old college student who devolved a passion for writing in the 7th grade when he would battle rap against students at lunch, in the 9th grade he started to slowly get more into the writing aspect as he discovered his true passion was writing, capturing the raw emotions he was feeling. Now he writes on average two poems a night. 

                      In response to the registered trademark
                     “More grains. Less you!” by General Mills

I threw out my old bra
Into the warm limbs of a tree

A pigeon made a nest
In one voluptuous cup

Would you prefer her
After she lays her eggs?

When the pale mounds
Roll loosely in their holder?

Do you love me
Now that there’s less of me?


Author Bio:
Leah Haymond is a Fresno, California poet. She was awared 2nd place in the Fresno County Library's poetry contest in the Adult category, read at a one poem festival called One Night Stanzas, and was a guest reader at a local slam poetry competition. She holds a BA in Spanish and works with people who are homeless with severe mental illness.

Of things that pass
And wheels of merriment
Topping the world
It’s time to build the magic
Together, even as I crawl low
To the ground, feeling for
The tickle of grass, a universe 
Of textures and sound.

I don’t know this country yet.

A walk of pleasure suns
Warm fallings back
A new wooden glow behind me
Nesting, enveloping, this temple and
The sparse chair, metallic and brown
Sitting itself in repose on a
Narrow pathway splitting a garden
Of grass, rock and sculpted trees
Which have not been visited in 
Some time.
I will visit there and forty
Years of mine will have passed
And I will walk in contemplation
Of each movement, and search 
For no-thought,
And look toward the sky.

A woman waits at
The light, on her
Bike, I can’t
See her face. She lifts her foot, 
Which is in a flat black
Shoe. As her heel lifts,
Another layer of black
Shoe remains on the ground, 
Like she is
Lifting out of herself,
Walking right out of her
Encasing and into
The world. 

Have I left any kind of legacy? I guess
I’ve only ever wanted small things, less even,
Than I thought. I want quiet days for
Reaching in, and close, yellow butterfly love
Around me.


Author Bio:
I'm Tammy, a traveller and writer. My short stories, poems and non-fiction have previously been published in Grace Notes Magazine, The Broken City, THIS Magazine, orion headless, The Bactrian Room, SNReview and Dairy River, among other publications.