Contributor: Bruce Levine

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New tomorrows
Sprinkled with uncertainty
Hopeful yet unknowing
Born of some spectral happenstance
That unites souls
Without knowing when or how
Looking in the mirror of time
And seeing infinity
Holding hands at the crossroads
Without questioning which way to go
Knowing the path to follow
Uncertainty gone in a tornado
Swirling in the core
Opening new vistas
And new tomorrows


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Bruce Levine, a native Manhattanite, has spent his life as a writer of fiction and poetry and as a music and theatre professional and is published on and in numerous internet and print journals. His work is dedicated to the loving memory of his late wife, Lydia Franklin.

Contributor: Jane Briganti

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Can we grow a second heart
to love someone other?
Can we love again
after the loss of another?

Can a new found love
heal the pains of the past?
Can a second heart -
a new love ever last?

Can two new hearts
become ever one?
Can they compare
to another or none?

Matters of the heart
their pains run deep
Leaving them with scars
and memories to keep

Can they move past
matters of the heart?
Is it feasible
a brand new start?

They can only wonder
if all they know is true
For all they really know
might not be what they knew


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A Native New Yorker, she's been writing poetry for as long as she can remember. Her writing expresses her thoughts about life, love, nature and human emotion.

Contributor: Noah Kim

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I am a blank canvas
I am empty and barren
I am vacant and desolate.

Yet, despite this, I am free and have an infinite amount of potential
Just a single drop of color, brings life within me

Red makes me filled with passion and boldness, a hint of anger as well
Yellow shows my optimism, a sun rising up and shining after a dark night
Blue displays trusts and strengths

With each brush stroke painted on me,
Hope, Desire, Pain, and Change, all these feelings are conveyed to me

Expressing emotions through the colors on me
Talking and conveying my feelings to the person looking at me
I converse with the illustrations drawn on me

But for now, I am empty
An empty canvas on an easel
Waiting to for life to be breathed into me


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Noah Kim loves to read up horror movie Wikipedia pages.
He's too scared most of the time to actually watch them, so the ones that pique his interest are usually read.

Contributor: Mark Tulin

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The man who speaks broken English carefully removes the husks and silks of each ear of corn. His wife slices off the tiny white kernels with her strong brown hands.

They bake trays of muffins each day and sell them with hot coffee to hungry migrant workers.

Each day in the new world is another promising batch. They dream of a future where they can be free and proud.

They pray that the immigration man never comes, never breaks down their front door.

They pray that their tenuous lives never shatter like glass.

If they hear a noise, they draw the blinds, stop and hide, because they fear the man in the dark suit.

The smell of corn muffins filter throughout their home like a beautiful Spanish song. They bake muffins each day with hope in their hearts.


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Mark Tulin is a former family therapist who lives in Santa Barbara, California. He has a poetry chapbook, Magical Yogis, published by Prolific Press (2017). His upcoming book is entitled, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories.

Contributor: Genn Barrett

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It’s an escape from reality
Another way to let one’s fantasies come to life
The doorway to other worlds
Portals to dimensions
Gateways to another time
All this and more are contained within its core

Each one is different
With a new journey anxiously waiting
A brand-new adventure to be had
New people to meet
Different races to be discovered
Unknown cultures to be studied
And new languages learned

They appeal to all kinds
Young and old; rich or poor
And date back to ancient scrolls and stone
Now they’re digitized
Can be read all over the world
They’ll never stop being popular
There are always new stories to be told


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I am a graduate of Hudson Valley Community College's Liberal Arts program currently living in Kingston, NY. I'm a Disney-fanatic, costume maker, and avid reader. And I cosplay at comic cons on the weekends with my boyfriend.

Contributor: Dorian J. Sinnott

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Do you remember the first time we kissed--
Down on the corner of fifth, under the street lamps;
Did you ever think we would become only a memory,
Devoid of physical soul.
Deeper in love I knew I’d fall,
Dragged along by the cord I was too afraid to cut.
Demolish.
Daring not to see what lay beyond the blade.

Downtown, bells rang through the crowd,
Dressed in black and mourning etched on their faces.
“Death is a faithful lover”, you once had said;
Devout, and so he could never bring you back.
Desolate remains my mind,
Dripping with words left unspoken,
Deeds undone.
Desperation has become my only friend.
Darkness sets itself upon the city,
Dancing shadows graceful in the light.
Didn’t my heart once feel the warmth,
Dream of a life beyond the shell?


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Dorian J. Sinnott is a graduate of Emerson College's Writing, Literature, and Publishing program, currently living in Kingston, New York with his cat. He enjoys horseback riding, playing violin, and cosplaying his favorite childhood characters at comic cons. Dorian's work has appeared in Crab Fat Literary Magazine, The Pangolin Review, and Soft Cartel.

Contributor: Bruce Levine

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The line of evergreen trees
Paraded in the sunset
Offset by the piercing highway
Following the path to the end

Breaking away from the crowd
They remained in silent understanding
Breathing each other’s essence
In a timeless momentum

Longing for a single pathway
Leading through the forest of emotions
In a garden of gilded fantasies
Thawed by the rays of passion

The final memory of tomorrow
Written on the feather of fate
Held in the palm of forever
Wrapped in a golden band of love


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Bruce Levine, a native Manhattanite, has spent his life as a writer of fiction and poetry and as a music and theatre professional. His literary catalogue includes four novels, short stories, humorous sketches, flash fiction, poetry, essays, articles and a screenplay His nearly one-hundred-fifty works are published in magazines, over twenty-five on-line journals, thirty books and his shows have been produced in New York and around the country. His work is dedicated to the loving memory of his late wife, Lydia Franklin. He lives in New York with his dog, Daisy. Visit him at www.brucelevine.com.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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They came out from the abyss,
Once more back in time,
Every intention evil.
All of them of one mind.
Serving the destroyer,
Opposed to all mankind,
Invisible among them,
But evident everywhere,
Sewing the seed of chaos
In every field they plow,
Murder, madness, selfishness,
The fruits they hope to reap,
Their vast storehouse bulging,
And still the people sleep.


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Bruce Mundhenke lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Jack Dolvermorris

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I put on the armor
of my gods
spread wide my wings
face the dark
face the night
all that icy cruelty
all that cold chaos

I put on the armor
of my gods
and draw my sword
to set the night alight
to drive away
specters of suffering
those who hold down the sun

I put on the armor
of my gods
free the great golden one
for another spring
another summer
another season
of fire and fruit
when ice is treat
instead of a torment
and the forces of night
hold sway only over hours
instead of days.


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Contributor: Maria-Theresa Zehendstrom

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I rode the ride
I took the chance
I screamed and howled
with joy
thrilled
from end
to beginning.

I've seen
what can become
of two people
after they say
"I do."

I've seen
permanence
wither away
in a day

I've seen
the world
turn to sand
in an hour

I've seen promises shattered
ironclad
now broken
now rusty
now dust
memories on the wind
nothing but memories
fading
as they slip through my fingers


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Inspired by the writings of Herne, Norris and Moreno, I write the song that splashes from my hands when I pour my soul on paper.