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Cover
Table of Contents
Editor's Notes
Donations
Submission Guidelines
Website

Stories & Essays
A Wedding Toast For Daddy's Little Girl
_
By Miriam N. Kotzin
Bread
_ By Debbi Pless
Flowers
_ By Rachel Miller
Gyokusai
_ By Julie Jordan
Hearts Without Armor
_ By Angela P. Markham
Mental Constipation and Brain Vomit
_ By Winnie Khaw
My Best Subject
_ By Ashley Polker
Piper
_ By Samantha Rae
Requiem For An Author
_ By R. Holsen
Sometimes It Pours Only Dogs
_ By Saana Tykkä
The Black Tape
_ By Brad Jashinsky

Poetry
A Slave To Time
_ By Clyde Windjammer
Colour
_ By Kaleen Love
Death By My Lover
_ By Jessica Tempestad
I Am A Pineapple
_ By Rachel Miller
Lament For the Lost Soldier
_ By Melissa Augeri
Laundry Arcade
_ By Ashley Polker
Left Silent To Dream of Wine
_ By Kaleen Love
Mortality
_ By Henry Grieves
Ode To Microsoft Spell Cheque
_ By Arielle Demchuk
Reminiscent of Society As An Individual
_ By Henry Grieves
Ship's Cook
_ By Heather Inwood
The Phoenix
_ By Kaleen Love
The Raven and the Dove
_ By Melissa Augeri
Train Dreamer
_ By Heather Inwood 

Art & Photography
S. Camargo
_ Photography and Drawings
David C. Clarke
_ Photography
Wiltekirra Samaxionn
_ Photography
Anca Sandu
_ Paintings
Austin Tanney
_ Photography
Ray Tsang
_ Paintings
Mark Warren
_ Photography

A Slave To Time
By Clyde Windjammer


It hangs on the wall, watching, listening
A facade for much deeper motives
An avatar of unforgiving cruelty.
And like a silent stalker, like a mythical sleuth
A metal chain extends from it
Its far end connecting to your ankle.

“Now I am the Master,” it declares
“Obey my every word and will.”
The twelve apprentices watch over you
From day to night, from night to day.
You are but a lowly Slave
But that you know not yet of
For you go about carrying out the
Mundane, habitual things in life
None the wiser about your eternal imprisonment.

All of a sudden, reality to you becomes
A myriad of deadlines, a multitude of limits
That come with punishments should they be broken.
So you rush about, trying to catch up
To race against the clock, to recapture lost Time.
You wonder - how does it work? What makes it tick?
And what makes the hands move thus so?
The apprentices change shifts, but only clockwise, clockwise –
Time is always wiser than you.

And it all ends here
A life forever lost, a soul never to be regained.
You chase the uncertain tomorrows, the ambiguous futures
Never registering the existence of the brilliant present.
But Time owes none; Time belongs to none
It cannot be saved, and nor can it be wasted.
Still you pursue, with those harried footsteps
Towards yet another destination, blinded by your haste.
If only you would pause to see
To relish the moment, to bask in the now
To break away from the condemnation to
Perpetual slavery, before the end of Time.