Volume VI

Fog

Warning lights burned as he stepped into the airlock, sealed inside a rubbery environmental suit. Deep, drawn-out breaths echoed through the mask, sounding almost like ghosts riding gusts of wind.

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S-Mall Love

Rustling bags, a smile here and there Bustling faces, many stories to share. Long wavy hair, the smell of home,

run

I spent my youth deciding, hesitating, in silence chasing whether or not it would all be worth it. I was there for years deciding whether to run for congress scoffing, behind a cup of coffee and judging people from a city corner.

Fog in Bishkek

The comedown of sundown knees me in the chest and I falter and fall to the floor I can feel the decay the creeping erosion of motion gripping tightly every one of my words If I felt like I could get away with it I would write the word "Hope" on seventy two

Neodermis

The mirror shimmered oddly in the bathroom lighting. The presentation was only minutes away, and she was already wracked with fear. They were waiting—ready for the new business plan, but she felt far less ready than she knew they did.

French Poem

Nature, oh, nature Must it be not understood? For centuries, we've searched above and beyond seeking the thing that builds the blocks of our never faded curiosity that turns into tiny little stars dancing along the night sky A thing that runs with the wind, roars with lighting cries with the rain, crashes with the ever so blue tides against shores and howls with the wolves, as the full moon arose

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