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A Dream Led To Another

Satis Shroff·September 3, 2020

A Dream Led To Another written by: Satis Shroff @satisshroff21 I was around twenty years old, My...

Poetry English

·3 mins read

Primavera en Berlín

Víctor Monsiváis·August 9, 2020

Primavera en Berlín written by: Victor Monsivais El día que mis papás regresaron de su viaje para...

A Corner Boy’s Lament

Bishal Pratim Nath·June 9, 2020

A Corner Boy’s Lament written by: Bishal Pratim Nath On my birthday, I dreamt about a guy...

English Poetry

·1 min read

Graffitied City

Rebecca Ruth Gould·April 22, 2019

Graffitied City written by: Rebecca Ruth Gould @rrgould The S-Bahn wraps around Tiergarten then sails over the...

English Poetry

·1 min read

EAST III

Rich·September 10, 2018

EAST III written by: Rich @H3Richard A Gay parade at The Brandenburg Gate With Seventy seven reasons...

Poetry English

·1 min read

EAST I

Rich·August 2, 2018

EAST I written by: Rich @H3Richard 10 days near Berlin don’t know where to begin One day...

English Poetry

·1 min read

The Day The Christmas Trees Cried

Nobby66·December 20, 2016

The Day the Christmas Trees Cried written by: Nobby66 @douglas97_s Hans and Gerda treating their kinder, blow...

English Poetry Christmas

·1 min read

A textbook example of nominative determinism, Lou Storey has always been a storyteller, a fact well illustrated in his art and in his writing. His careers have reflected that as well, first as a creator of idea-based exhibitions for museums, and later as a psychotherapist employing narrative therapies. His art and his writing share qualities of rich texture and detail, examining our capacity to be absurd while allowing a measure of forgiveness for our foibles. Storey and his husband Steve retired in 2021 and moved from New Jersey to Savannah Georgia. “We love everything about Savannah, it is like a city that looks like a park and thinks it’s a small town. Best of all, we can grow bananas in the backyard!”

Treats Only, Please! by Lauren Scott

Creepy cackles from tall, looming trees
startle their jumpy heartbeats as they walk.
Shadows discreetly follow the echoes
while they timidly proceed down the block.

Young voices repeat with conviction,
“It’s just a night for entertainment.”
There’s no need for goosebumps and fear
as their eyes focus on the cracked pavement.

Undeniably sensing they’re not alone,
many follow in their hesitant footsteps,
eager to reach doors and push doorbells
but afraid of frightening special effects....

Features

Lower Strata

On Being a Modern Dead Person

A Slave to War

Interviews

Spotlight On Writers – Lisa Reynolds

Spotlight On Writers – Joseph F Coniglio

Spotlight On Writers – Karen Southall Watts

Lower Strata

A Plum for Oxford Don

On Being a Modern Dead Person

Hitler Goes To Confession

Rubble Women

The Enemy

My First Trip To Europe Was Yellow

Journey to Berlin

Berlin

A Dream Led To Another

Primavera en Berlín

A Corner Boy’s Lament

Graffitied City

EAST III

EAST I

The Day The Christmas Trees Cried

Come Back To Me

A Slave to War

On Being a Modern Dead Person

Edith’s Epiphany

Lower Strata

Sunbird

The Palace Hotel

Snuggle

Eutony

Sense

Me, O Me

After The Count