This wide-ranging selection moves between the cosmic, the spiritual and the deeply human, exploring the fragile boundaries between life and death, freedom and confinement, love and loss. Howard Bernbaum’s How Long the Life takes an irreverent journey from a hospital deathbed to the origins of the universe, setting the immense scale of creation against the brief and often absurd circumstances of individual human lives.
Diana Ferraro’s essay on Spanish women writers opens another perspective, tracing a literary tradition in which spirituality, imagination and the supernatural become ways of reaching beyond social and personal confinement.
Together, these works consider what lies beyond the surface of ordinary existence: the vastness above us, the unseen life within us, and the persistent human desire to find freedom, love and illumination in the face of mortality.
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'How Long the Life' by Howard Bernbaum, a striking juxtaposition unfolds between the cosmic journey of a meteor and the human saga at a hospital. |
In this essay, there's an imaginative spirituality tradition that is vividly represented here by St. Teresa of Ávila, whose mystical poetry transforms death into the promise of a greater life; by Rosalía de Castro, whose Galician poems move between humour, desire, love, reputation and sorrow; and by Gloria Fuertes, whose deceptively simple, rebellious verse insists upon compassion and light in a world capable of extinguishing both. |
In these three wide-ranging works, Martin Heavisides explores the unruly power of imagination through William Blake’s visionary art, Peter Barnes’s darkly comic theatre and the precarious world of Empty Bowl. Together they challenge received ideas about madness, morality, power and human nature, finding flashes of freedom and compassion amid violence, absurdity and disorder.
Three compact stories explore memory, relationship and the fragile ways people make sense of their lives. Marie Fitzpatrick’s Eden moves between the natural world and human history, finding beauty in what is transient; Jesse Patrick draws memory and emotion through the symbolic presence of water; and Mary Miller looks closely at companionship, changing relationships and the expectations we carry for ourselves and one another. Together, the pieces find large emotional currents within brief, carefully observed moments.
These poems move through change, memory and the fragile ways people shape themselves against the forces around them. In Zev Torres’s Carved from the Wind, movement through the natural world becomes light, elusive and almost musical, while Evolution turns to the domestic sphere, observing a mother whose anger, control and sudden social transformation are watched closely by her children. Jane Rosenberg La Forge’s At Pottery Barn considers death, cremation and remembrance with wit and unease, questioning what remains of us materially and symbolically after death. Beverly Jackson’s Feeding Frenzy closes on a warmer note, celebrating friendship, age and independence through food, gardening and the easy intimacy of two women who have learned to nourish themselves and one another. Together, the poems consider transformation in its many forms—from wind and family memory to mortality, survival and the pleasures of ordinary companionship.
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"Carved from the Wind" by Zev Torres unfolds with a delicate, ethereal quality, evoking images of movement, transformation, and nature's ephemeral beauty. Its verses flow like the very wind it describes, meandering through scenes of grace, loss, and ultimately, a return. |
"Evolution" portrays the ongoing struggle to balance personal needs with familial and societal expectations, a theme that resonates deeply in the intricate dance of family life. |
"At Pottery Barn" by Jane Rosenberg La Forge is a profound poem that weaves together themes of loss, memory, and the search for meaning in the rituals of death. La Forge explores the personal and cultural dimensions of mourning through the physical and metaphorical scattering of ashes, contrasting different family members# choices and reflecting on the implications of these acts |
Beverly Jackson crafts a narrative that is both grounding and uplifting, reminding readers of the value in the connections we forge and the simple acts of living that bind us. |
Three vivid short works explore danger, loss and survival from strikingly different angles. A fox outwits a trap, two sisters discuss an unexpectedly comic village tragedy, and a woman confronts the violence concealed within a marriage—each piece turning on the instant when appearances fall away and the truth beneath is exposed.
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A fearless fox reads the garden’s weather and scents its hidden dangers. When she finds bait waiting in a rusted trap, instinct and cunning turn the hunter’s weapon into a meal for home. |
![]() Over tea and thickly buttered soda bread, two sisters exchange the sad news of Magilligan’s death. Rich in Northern Irish speech and sharply observed domestic detail, the conversation gradually reveals a tragedy at once heartfelt, comic and wonderfully unexpected. |
In a schoolyard conversation, the breakdown of a marriage emerges through bruised bodies, guarded words and divided loyalties. A tense, finely compressed story about violence, denial and the moment when endurance finally gives way to action. |
Three works confront the pressures that silence people: guilt and the search for redemption, the double-edged longing for flight and freedom, and the struggle for safety and dignity in the face of hostility. Harris, Walters and Taillefer turn fear, vulnerability and human experience into voices that insist on being heard.
Three imaginative works enter worlds populated by scarecrows, dragons and fabled animals. Moving from surreal brevity to tender circus fantasy and richly comic satire, they explore performance, recognition, appetite and pride—and what can happen when the desire to be heard, seen or satisfied takes on a life of its own.
These poems move through memory, love, grief and the lingering presence of the past. Tom Sheehan finds a mother’s labour and affection still held in the worn surface of an old dough board, while Kristine Jensen traces the damage of an angry thought and the longing to recover what has been lost. Iain C. Smith’s Mates reflects on friendship, sudden death and the preciousness of the time still granted to us, and Pipedream returns through storm, smoke and remembered domestic detail to childhood, family tensions and an earlier world. Together, the poems show how ordinary objects, gestures and moments can carry whole lives within them.
These four works move through childhood survival, artistic obsession, literary imagination and family memory. Bill Frank Robinson’s Arche Ceebo follows a boy left largely to fend for himself, whose determination to find the price of a Saturday picture show reveals both poverty and resilience, ending with an unexpected act of kindness. William Reese Hamilton’s Artist at Work turns the reunion of former lovers into an unsettling encounter between desire, creativity and possession, as intimacy itself becomes part of the artist’s material. Martin Burke’s Epic wryly follows a solitary dreamer convinced that he can recreate Gilgamesh as its definitive version, blurring devotion, literary ambition and delusion. Galen R. Faison’s Gemini in Twilight remembers two formidable grandmothers whose neighbouring porches hold family history, humour, faith, loss and endurance.
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Archie's adventures and misadventures, from his initial quest for a dime to his interactions with various characters in his community, reveal a society where children are forced to mature quickly, facing realities that test their ingenuity and moral compass. |
"Explore Artist at Work" by William Reese Hamilton, a gripping tale of love, art, and transformation. Dive into a complex relationship set against a backdrop of urban decay, where art becomes a metaphor for connection and self-discovery. A narrative rich in emotion and psychological depth. |
"Epic" serves as a meditation on the nature of creativity, the solitude often required for profound thought and work, and the complex relationship between an artist and the society that surrounds them |
"Gemini in Twilight" by Galen R.Faison weaves a poignant narrative that navigates through the realms of family legacy, the resilience born out of struggle, and the indelible marks left by our ancestors |
Two playful poems by Russell Bittner take on rain, cold and the general inconvenience of weather with wit, rhyme and a stubborn refusal to be put out.
In This Rain That Wears No Raincoat, the rain itself becomes a swaggering opponent, while What Warmth Is There in One Old Tree? searches through trees, lakes, ponds and an increasingly eccentric week for somewhere warm to hide. Both poems find their answer in companionship: whatever the weather is doing outside, good company remains its own kind of shelter.
Three stories look at the labels we carry, the lives we have lived and the moments when something finally shifts.
In Yvette Managan’s In the Closet, Mary searches through old clothes before meeting a lawyer, and each garment brings with it a piece of a marriage she is preparing to leave behind. Ramon Collins’ Smell of Rain finds former baseball champion Henry Jenkins on his porch, measuring age, memory and mortality against a record that still bears his name. And in Becky Soto’s sharply comic Labels, a grandmother’s battle with the tiny print on a medicine bottle becomes an argument with ageing, modern life and a world she insists is getting smaller.
Humorous, tender and sometimes defiant, these stories find character in the everyday — in clothes, memories, medicine bottles and the small acts by which people continue to define themselves.
Three poems of haunted places and wounded lives move from the battered Devon coast to a Venetian waterside and the darker streets of Dublin. Sea, rain, memory, and grief bind them together, revealing landscapes marked by absence, sudden sorrow, and the ghosts of what cannot be undone.
These three pieces explore creativity, interpretation and the unpredictable places from which stories emerge. In the opening reflection, an ordinary encounter between a cat and mouse becomes the starting point for poetry and an experiment with artificial intelligence, showing how a writer can remain the imaginative director while using new tools to examine movement, structure and technique. Stephen Zelnick’s Chekhov’s Dark Comedy revisits The Seagull as a work of irony and restraint rather than conventional melodrama, considering Chekhov’s refusal to judge his characters or force life into easy conclusions. Joe Giordano’s The Mandylion shifts into suspense, where art expertise, family loyalties and an alluring figure from the past draw Anthony Provati toward a potentially dangerous million-dollar proposition. Together, the pieces consider how observation becomes art, how interpretation changes what we see, and how curiosity can lead us into territory we never expected to enter.
Two sharply different stories explore the uneasy claims of the past. In Margrét Helgadóttir’s The Pact, Tuva returns to her family’s abandoned tivoli in a remote mountain clearing and discovers that an old bargain with the mysterious grey people is more than folklore. Alex Braverman’s Mozart and I moves through musical parody, dark comedy and Holocaust-shadowed family memory to examine fathers and sons, artistic inheritance, expectation, and the impossible demand that art should answer history.
Four poems explore the ways ordinary things hold what time threatens to take from us. Kathleen Cassen Mickelson finds inheritance, unease and tenderness in a first attempt at preserving summer, then turns to a snowy Minnesota morning where moonlight, crows, an old dog and a loved one make the everyday feel like prayer. James Graham writes from the harder country of bereavement: confronting the blunt material fact of ash before poetry can return, and later discovering that memory can quietly repopulate an empty house with a familiar voice, a glance and a consoling ghost.
Two mischievous poems turn childhood defiance into verbal play. Little Miss Muffet answers the world with wit and suspicion, while Nolens Volens stages bedtime as a grand philosophical rebellion destined to collapse beneath bears, pillows and sleep. Russell Bittner combines nursery-rhyme rhythms, wordplay and comic argument to create poems that are clever enough for adults and unruly enough for children.
These poems move between grief and wonder, finding thresholds in burial grounds, fountains, birds, islands, insects and shells. Death and departure sit beside renewal, humour and moments of sudden illumination, while sea, wind, light and living creatures carry memory into the physical world. Together, the poems explore how what is lost can remain present — transformed into landscape, sensation, imagination and the small, unexpected magic of being alive.
The three stories gathered here move through childhood, memory, labour, and inheritance. In scenes of rainwater, porch-light storytelling, family grief, and working lives marked by poverty and endurance, the ordinary world becomes charged with consequence. These works look closely at what is passed down: stories, losses, small loyalties, social wounds, and the stubborn human will to keep going.
Three poems explore private lives shaped by longing, weariness and small acts of escape. A waitress finds companionship and comic consolation at the end of a difficult day; a quiet room becomes charged with desire as a man watches his sleeping lover; and a daughter remembers her father through the music, restlessness and thwarted freedom that filled their home.
Four very different pieces explore what the body remembers and what time cannot quite erase. Oonah V. Joslin’s five tankas move through mature love, humour, habit and the tenderness of ageing; Laurel Blossom’s Very Warm for March catches desire in the sudden warmth and recklessness of an early spring, while Red Rewind turns memory back through illness, sisterhood, art and bereavement, where love persists inside the machinery of grief. Linda LShok’s surreal Dark Snow closes the group in a more dreamlike register, transforming appetite, heat, domestic objects and the body into a strange, sensual landscape.
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Oonah V. Joslin's tankas offer our readers a poetic glimpses into love, nature, and life's fleeting moments. Each verse weaves emotions and memories, revealing the beauty in the mundane and the eternal dance of change. Dive into a world where words paint lasting impressions on the heart and mind. |
"Very Warm for March" beautifully intertwines the awakening of the natural world with the awakening of human desires and connections. Blossom's use of imagery and intimate details creates a piece that resonates with the joy of early spring and the timeless nature of love. |
The poem invites readers to reflect on the nature of sibling relationships, the process of mourning, and the search for meaning in the face of mortality. Through its exploration of these themes, "Red Rewind" speaks to the universal experience of grappling with the complexities of love, loss, and the human condition. |
Dark Snow by Linda Shok is a narrative that seems to revel in contrasts: the tangible with the abstract, the domestic with the natural, and the intimate with the expansive. The prose is rich with metaphor and imagery, suggesting a deep undercurrent of emotion and longing beneath the surface of everyday actions. |
At a busy Spanish railway station, travel, memory and a mysterious photograph draw past and present together, while echoes of the Civil War linger among arrivals, departures and people waiting to make connections.
A reflective poem moving through nature, memory and the changing seasons of a life, finding resilience, connection and moments of grace among love, loss and the fleeting pleasures of the world.
Set in rural Minnesota, a story of physical work, family bonds and the thoughts that surface while stripping an old barn, where the quiet countryside becomes a place for reflecting on change and the difficulties of life.
Resting beneath a Mopane tree, Amina imagines a different future for her family in a story of conflict, displacement, prayer and the persistent hope for safety, healing and another life.
Plastic sunflowers create a private spring that lasts beyond April, before the image turns towards marriage, loss and illusion in a poem about what we preserve and what cannot be made permanent.
A one-legged cricket searches for companionship in a fable about difference, ingenuity and resilience, discovering the possibility of connection in a world inclined towards conformity.

Thirteen pieces from across the archive follow weather into our lives: rain gathers, rivers rise, storms break and the sea pulls at those who live beside it. Elsewhere water offers refuge, memory and even absurdity. These stories and poems look at what happens when the landscape shifts around us — and at the places, people and memories in which we seek shelter.
A child comes into the world while rain beats down and floodwater threatens the family home. In High Water, weather is never simply background: storms, rising water and the uncertainty they bring become part of family memory. It is a story about beginnings shaped by forces much larger than ourselves, and about lives built in places where the elements are always close at hand.
A swollen river presses against its boundaries while people gather to watch its power. Waters Rising catches that uneasy fascination we feel in the presence of dangerous weather — the knowledge that something beautiful and compelling can also overwhelm everything in its path. Water here is restless, powerful and impossible to ignore.

For forty years, English Wells tries to take a little more land from the Pumquich River, measuring human persistence against the river’s own stubborn course. Tom Sheehan turns that long contest into a story of possession, endurance and the old argument between people and the landscape they try to control. The river, naturally enough, has its own ideas.
Written for the poet’s mother’s memorial service, this poem gathers childhood, family, storms and loss around the memory of a vanished river. Landscape becomes inseparable from remembrance: what has disappeared from the physical world continues to flow through memory. It is a quiet meditation on the places that help make us, and on what remains after both people and landscapes have changed.
Ginny drives north with her children, moving through heat, road and gathering weather towards the possibility of another life. In The Smell of Salt, landscape and storm accompany a more private journey, as leaving becomes its own form of seeking shelter. The weather outside is real, but so too is the need to find somewhere safer within the human world.
Wind, salt, breakers and harbour surround a creature displaced from the sea. Drawing on the old selkie tradition, the piece explores the strange unease of belonging to one world while being held in another. The sea becomes more than landscape: it is memory, identity and the pull of a home that cannot easily be forgotten.
Sea, rock, tide pools and changing sky create a world complete in itself. Island pauses over the small meteorology of an isolated place, where weather and water determine the rhythm of the day more convincingly than the distant noise of the wider world. It offers the reader a quieter kind of shelter — the temporary refuge of standing apart.
Gathering thunderheads hang over a damaged relationship, giving the emotional weather of the story a visible form. As the storm builds outside, tension gathers between people whose own atmosphere has become difficult to escape. Thunderhead uses weather not merely as setting but as pressure: something felt before it finally breaks.
Sea strikes rock, gulls move overhead, salt fills the air and the tide leaves its shifting evidence along the shore. Ocean’s Alive celebrates the restless life of the coastline and the constant movement between land and water. It is an attentive piece, alive to those ordinary shoreline details that make the sea seem perpetually new.
Here water moves indoors and becomes a place of enclosure, silence and retreat. Entering a flotation tank, the narrator carries with her years of other people’s judgments about her body and herself. The strange weightlessness of the water opens another meaning of shelter: a temporary space in which the noise of the outside world can finally fall away.
This river does not simply flow around obstacles: it works upon them, carving canyons and transforming interruption into movement and waterfalls. In The River, water becomes an image of persistence and resilience, offering its own peculiar music of consolation. The poem finds comfort not in stillness, but in the river’s ability to continue.
And then the weather turns wonderfully unruly. In Frog Strangler, the familiar expression for exceptionally heavy rain is pushed into comic and surreal territory when frogs themselves become part of the downpour. The piece brings mischief into the collection and reminds us that weather has always supplied language, exaggeration and story as readily as it supplies storms.
Beginning with the familiar literary image of the lonely cloud, Of Clouds plays with poetry, weather and the language we use to describe solitude. Its wit gradually opens onto something more recognisably human: the difference between picturesque loneliness and the real thing. By the end, the weather has moved inward and the cloud has become a way of thinking about ourselves.
Hobs and Fiddle
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