Prose, poetry and/or nonfiction

By Arlo Michelson The resting nail between the eyes, That see the hammer falling slow, But not behind the hand that guides, Or gravity conspiring now, In schemes more eloquent… more

By Arlo Michelson Synaptic branches from a tree that talks, And walks, long arms beneath the sea, From ark to ark, bowed cities made entirely, Of electronic veins and eyes… more

By Mona Schiller They bled the sun out, With spindly knives like crooked hairs, And caught her ichor in a vase, Set on the blue altar where it shouts, So… more