Wandering Stars:: Walters, Tomlin Jr,. Norton

Ann Walters

Wendell Tomlin, Jr

Ann Walters

Nancy Norton

Versighs: Trecost, Kempis, Long, and Rohan

The Bicycle Mechanic


The Music Box


Beautiful Films by Stephen Zelnick (The Motion Picture Production Code)

Excerpts from our

Spring 2023 Magazine ...

COMING SOON .........

TLW's "Timelines"

Wetting the Shamrock: Dyer, Joslin, Eliav, Augustine


Vanishing point

Cold Fish

In Time

Middle Square: Kiernan, Gebbie, Kiernan, Fitzpatrick

Old Man

Ed's Wife and Other Stories



In the Zone





Nonnie Augustine: Harry's Bar

Martin Heavisides:Peter Barnes (1931-2004)

Mari Fitzpatrick: Love Said

Russell Bittner: Aubade to Marit Haahr

The Pig's Whiskers: Nero, Managan, Strait and Parks

Lauren Strait

Jim Parks

Pepe Nero

Yvette Managan

Carey, Collins, Cavelli

days marching by, cold and sexless as stones

"Write this down -- you are a bitch. One might say a Constance bitch."


Porkies: Augustine, Classic Wharton, Dyer by 2

In Time

The Daunt Diana

*Tw0 Mallards*


Storytellers: Sky, Coughlan,, Freese, Asante--Illustrations: Dom Capobianco

Do me a favor Gill, don't tell the boys I'm reading books"/ What did Gill answer?

Popeye at 80

Dawgs will be Dawgs, Deputy dawgs and....

Ego, Egat, Egod.... eeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhh

Potluck: Christmas Poetry, Fuller, Norman, Luckins, Hitchcock


Weaving Dreams


Blue Walls

Seasonal Poetry

Godless Fruit by Jo-Ann Newton

Lonely as a Clown by Mike Lewis

Time to shine by Lesley Timms

The Day is Done by H W Longfellow

StorIes: Sky, Coughlan, Freese and Asante

Spring, a Girl

The Red Couch

Sweet Cotton


Magazines for Sale

Poetry File: Long, West, Blake (Classic) Robillard

Winging It


Songs of Innocence

Moon Catalog

Short Fiction from: Long, Bernbaum, Joy Taylor, Wilkenson

The High Tops

Marty-s Career

Daffodils in a Blue Vase


High Hedges Lucky Dip





Magazines for Sale

Medicine by Jim Parks

"Thank you, son. You know, Seminole has a meaning. The Seminole people were all kinds of tribes, but they fled to Florida because the Army was chasing them. Co-lon-neh and Sharp Knife would not leave them alone.

Thursday's Portmanteau's One Arm Bandit

Do YOU write Sonnets too! Like Vivaldi's are they a test of Harmony and Invention?

Short Story: Cold, Cold Heart by Jim Haughey

The Little Prisoners by Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz

My son escaped my attempt to kiss him though I pleaded for him to come back. “Un beso, mijito. Just one and I won’t ask again, I bargained.

But Frankie ran to Esmeralda, scampered up her body and into her waiting arms. As I approached, he screwed up his mouth like he was going to cry. He shook his head a stubborn, stubborn NO! before he turned and buried his face in my sister’s neck.

I reached out, but Esmeralda waved my hand away.

She patted his back, murmured into his ear. As she swayed, she looked over at me and said he was tired. She said that every time.

Point of Comfort by Judith A. Lawrence

Excerpt from Chapter 12, "No Longer a Ward of the State," from "Point of Comfort," by Judith A. Lawrence," a Memoir in two parts, published January, 2023..

"The last weekend of June, Johnny and I drove to Maryland. We applied for our marriage license and were told we would be able to pick it up in two weeks.
We hoped to be married in the same Methodist church as Ben and Elaine.
On a Friday night Johnny pulled up in front of the house in his clunker of a car. I stole down the stairs with my beat up suitcase full of my personal things with a few clothes stuffed in. It would be all I had if Violet would not allow me to retrieve other things when I returned."

Point of Comfort for Sale on Amazon

Gil by Pepe Nero

Gilbert Sorrentino was born in Brooklyn, New York in 1929. In 1956, Sorrentino founded the literary magazine Neon with friends from Brooklyn College, including friend Hubert Selby Jr. He edited Neon from 1956 to 1960, and then served as editor for Kulchur from 1961 to 1963.

After working closely with Selby on the manuscript of Last Exit to Brooklyn (1964). Sorrentino was an editor at Grove Press from 1965 to 1970, where one of his editorial projects was The Autobiography of Malcolm X.

Next Submission Window

Is for our Summer 2023 Issue
More details coming soon

Review: Flux Lines by John C Mannone

There are two constants in the poetry of John Mannone: love and science… And they are intertwined--his poems flow effortlessly between poles of desire and precious, precise knowledge.

In the world of poetry there is no one who can mine science for metaphor the way Mannone does. Nor move to love so naturally.
--Roald Hoffmann, chemist and writer, professor emeritus at Cornell University and co-recipient of the 1981 Nobel Prize in Chemistry

The Boy by Yvette Managan

Lilly impatiently buttons her coat while Presley wraps the new baby in a blanket and lays her in the carriage. They watch Mickey as he flies down the stairs. Smokey, his coonhound, trails after him. Lilly opens the front door and Mickey sails past her, sliding on the new ice forming on the sidewalk. He stretches his left leg forward, turns sideways, extends his arm and bends his knees, getting as much speed from the thin covering of ice as possible.
"Stop that, Michael, or you-ll slip and fall and mess your suit!" Lilly scolds. ...It is raining. The thin icy spots on the walkways melt. Inside, parishioners sing carols; candlelight flickers over the pages of the hymnals making the words dance.

"Yes Mother," Mickey replies, bending his knees a little more.

The Man in the Wet, Gray Fedora by Jim Parks

Old news.
I didn't understand why they had taken the rotating seats off the uprights at the lunch counters and when I asked my mother about it, people laughed and smirked, so she reacted enough to make her freckles turn colors and nearly jerked my arm out of its shoulder socket, tripping across those highly polished floor tiles as fast as her short little legs would go.

When asked again, she jerked even harder, glaring at some drugstore cowboy that was winking at her, and said "Ask that old boy there. I am sure the lazy-headed outfit has time to explain it all to you." It was one of my first glimpses at the face of hatred. The old boy-s face just froze under his ducktail haircut ...

Quislings by Lauran Strait

"There, there, poor babies." Elizabeth pats the side of the red Playmate cooler

as she stares inside. "Such little ones this time." She fishes out the last of the doves from their bed of dry ice. "What-s the world coming to? Broken wings and plucked feathers. Have they no decency?

Magazines for Sale

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