Scott Lilley “Aged”
Scott Lilley Aged Time flicked the dirt from underneath its fingernails onto our faces. Scott Lilley is twenty years old reading English and Creative Writing at Lancaster University, his work has been...
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Tony Press Joins OSP We are delighted to have Tony Press join the editorial team. Thanks, Tony, and welcome! Dale & Elizabeth
View ArticleJ. R. Solonche “Mistake”
J. R. Solonche Mistake It means “an error caused by a lack of skill,” which means a life, a whole life, can be an error caused by a lack of skill. J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since...
View ArticleJ. R. Solonche “Botanical Gardens”
J. R. Solonche Botanical Gardens If yellow is the color of joy, then here is joy enough for a city of the miserable, and if red is love’s color, then here is red enough for all the cups of the...
View ArticleJ. R. Solonche “Myopia”
J. R. Solonche Myopia The window, a sky composed of a single cloud somewhere near the sun, the desk lamp, a sun diffused through fog rising over a lake, the green blotter on the desk, a lake with...
View ArticleTarun Cherian “The Runaway Smile”
Tarun Cherian The Runaway Smile My smile walks away from me, Boards the train bound to Sakleshpur, claims its seat, Next to the mami (auntyji) from Malleshwaram, who pulls out a tiffin filled with...
View ArticleBoris Kokotov “Absence is God’s..”
Boris Kokotov Absence is God’s middle name, his first name lost in translation. Boris Kokotov lives in Baltimore where he writes poems and short stories that appear in periodicals.
View ArticleJohn Grey “Race-Car Driver”
John Grey Race-Car Driver He’s at the wheel, helmet for a head, fire-suit for a body, while large silver pipes like dragon mouths with roaring red breath pursue him on an oval track, lap after lap...
View ArticleSarah White “The Vanishing”
Sarah White The Vanishing Weep for the tiny nematodes, diatoms, corals, and crustaceans lost though we don’t know most of their names yet, let alone how we’ll get along without them now that they’ve...
View ArticleDarrel Dionne “Butterfly”
Darrel Dionne Butterfly pinned, spread winged and motionless, Is precisely not a butterfly. Darrel Dionne is a retired social worker and part-time poet who writes a lot of one sentence poems.
View ArticleIan Willey “A Show on A.I.”
Ian Willey A Show on A.I. The host says it’s only a matter of time before they render me me redundant. Ian Willey is a teacher and daydreamer from Akron, Ohio.
View ArticleJosé Enrique Medina “Faith”
José Enrique Medina Faith The landscape was so silent, I could hear my heart’s beat repeating its two syllables, “Believe, believe.” Fe El paisaje era tan silencioso, yo podía escuchar el latido de mi...
View ArticleJudith Salcewicz “Being”
Judith Salcewicz Being Gliding on hard-crusted snow, my feet leave no mark until the sun-warmed surface caresses my sinking shoes and gives testament to my existence. Daily dog walks stimulate Judith...
View ArticleJessica de Koninck “Entry from the Handbook of General Regrets”
Jessica de Koninck Entry from the Handbook of General Regrets When was the last time someone asked what you would like for breakfast or woke you with the scent of scones baking or buttermilk biscuits...
View ArticleSteve Klepetar “My Mother Had Five Faces”
Steve Klepetar My Mother Had Five Faces On feast days, she pulled one out for carrying the celebration food, kept another for snarling in the kitchen, and there was one for anger at the shops, one for...
View ArticleSteve Klepetar “Odysseus”
Steve Klepetar Odysseus In one motion he strung the bow the suitors could barely bend, and he shot them down in a cold rage, so why, when he sailed for Troy, did he leave such a weapon behind? One...
View ArticleLissa Perrin “His Retirement”
Lissa Perrin His Retirement Possessed of newfound time and energy to take on the basement, he’s filled with enthusiasm for sorting and tossing and facing me with long neglected boxes packed with my...
View ArticleLissa Perrin “Midnight”
Lissa Perrin Midnight Under the silk nightgown her fingers worry the lump like a rosary bead, counting the hours until dawn. Lissa Perrin is a psychotherapist and occasional writer of poetry from Ann...
View ArticleAustin Davis “White Flowers”
Austin Davis White Flowers Some might miss that split second when your eyes drop their blinds and your lips begin to open but for me, as the clouds decide to rest and every car stops for gas, it’s like...
View ArticleZandra Mink-Fuller “Last Nerve”
Zandra Mink-Fuller Last Nerve The lady sitting at the counter rubbing her straw up and down against the apparently empty Styrofoam cup, sent my last nerve into the empty space of the diner where Ruby’s...
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