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

Stories & Essays
Copy Machine Repair Guy
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By D.E. Fredd
Corrupted Youth
_ By Kurt Kirchmeier
Dragon's Breath
_ By Lionel Cheng
Even the Damned Deserve to Love
_ By Anna Cortez
Gifts
_ By Jocelyn Johnson
House of Cards
_ By Steven J. Dines
In Doubt
_ By Stephanie Thoma
Lipstick
_ By Michelle Baron
Old Biddy
_ By Claire Nixon
Quinceañera
_ By Hester Young
The Fiddler and the Faerie
_ By Samantha Rae
When Barky Smiles
_ By S.E. Diamond

Poetry
2 A.M. Window Shopping
_ By Chris McGuffin
Alison
_ By Harriet O. Leach
Cloudy New Year's Morning
_ By Richard Fein
Not Easy
_ By Samantha Ogust
On Hearing Li-Young Lee Read His Poetry
_ By Foster Dickson
Prelude and Coda
_ By Richard Fein
Rainy Night Meditation
_ By Harriet O. Leach
Retreat
_ By Richard MacAleese
Silage Team--Machete Thirst
_ By Leland Jamieson
Starlight
_ By Richard MacAleese
Stolen Phone
_ By Jorge Jameson
The Abandoned Playground
_ By Richard MacAleese
Thought Provoking Baked Crescent
_ By Chris McGuffin

Art & Photography
Daniel Bravo
_ Paintings
Tove Hedengren
_ Photography
Peter Huettenrauch
_ Photography
E. Hunting
_ Drawings and Digital Art
Robin McQuay
_ Drawings
Iris Onica
_ Paintings
Pete Revonkorpi
_ Digital Art
Roy Wangsa
_ Photography

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Cloudy New Year's Morning
By Richard Fein


Surely last year she left someone or someone left her,
the way she sits on the bench by the 69th street pier,
slowly tossing crumpled bread to the gulls.
She even tries feeding the manna from her open palms,
but the feathered Israelites refuse her handheld charity,
preferring to peck on the ground.
Thus with downcast eyes and slumping posture,
she anoints herself the center of the gulls’ attention.
Attention, and so I move toward her.
And what am I doing here this cloudy New Year’s morning?
We two alone together on a pier so deserted
that even the daily fishermen are absent.
I walk past her and instead of happy new year,
I blurt, “It will be better this year.”
And she raises her head and we’re eye-to-eye.
And I stop. And I hope; and I hope.
But her eyes whisper, “Thanks, but please move on.”
And so I leave, through a flock of grounded gulls
not yet ready to resume soaring.

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RICHARD FEIN has been published in many web and print journals, including Oregon East, Southern Humanities Review, Touchstone, Windsor Review, Maverick, Parnassus Literary Review, Small Pond, Kansas Quarterly, Blue Unicorn, Exquisite Corpse, and many others. He also has an interest in digital photography.

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