The Dead by Maura O’Connor

The Dead by Maura O’Connor

I fled your deaths.
They happened anyway.
Me,
the missing witness.
Michael,
I will miss you most.
The roses you gave me
the night you told me
you hated me.
The song you wrote
comparing my eyes
to ocean
my dreams

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The End of Whaling

artist: early worm  by D.S. Maolalai and so we grew tired of lamp-oil. whaling too cruel a sport and death too much a price. dirty yellow light like tobacco-stained apartments. too cruel. better to crack the skin of rocks and dig down. and we did and black oil oozed forth, a boon without cruelty. more…

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Art by Alexandre Nodopaka

  ___ Alexandre Nodopaka originated in Kiyv, Ukraine. Speaks San Franciscan, Parisian, Barcelonan, Kievan, & Muscovite i un poco de Espanol. Mumbles in English. He propounds having studied at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, Casablanca, Morocco. Presently full time author, visual artist but considers his past irrelevant as he seeks new reincarnations.

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Photography by Fabrice Poussin

___ Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.  

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