Table of Contents
Editor's Notes
Submission Guidelines

Stories & Essays
'57 Chevy
By Gary Moshimer
A Visit to India From America...
_ By Shubha Venugopal
Calista Flockhart and the MySpace Hoax
_ By Michael Frissore
Recollections and Revelations
_ By Elizabeth Harbaugh
Springtime Visits
_ By Phyllis Link
Stupendous Stew
_ By Malerie Yolen-Cohen
The Genius
_ By Ray Templeton
The Stranger Below
_ By Sam Vargo
_ By Louise Norlie
_ By Dan Devine
Vegetarian Rage
_ By John A. Ward
What Might Pass Between Them
_ By Alexandra Leake

A Glutton For Truth
_ By Richard Fein
A Question of Proper Form
_ By Richard Fein
Boiler Man
_ By Leland Jamieson
_ By Davide Trame
Lioness In Miniature
_ By Grace M. Murray
_ By Pete Lee
Real Life Elocution
_ By Richard Fein
Rewriting An Ending
_ By Rumit Pancholi
_ By Tim Shell
Seven Ways of Looking at a Full Moon
_ By Naiya Wright
_ By Jeanne Hugoe-Matthews
_ By Kristine Ong Muslim
_ By Patrick Frank
The Empty Spaces After You
_ By Rumit Pancholi
_ By Ed Higgins
Uncle Zebulon
_ By J.R. Salling

Art & Photography
Dora Calo
Robert Carter
Noah Erkes
Andrew Patsalou
Filip Wierzbicki


Seven Ways of Looking at a Full Moon
By Naiya Wright

The forest was pale and window-framed.
The moon was hung,
somewhere out of sight.

I wait for [moon knows what] to fall &
break monochrome light,
to fragment murk and cricket screeches.

An old woman shuffles, walks her cat
down the moonlit lane and back.
Five years now,
its sinew and bones tangle with roots
under her flowerbed.

Should I tell her?
I do not want to consign her moon-gray
solace to oblivion.

Are moonlit paths in somber forests
paved with such kind silences?

The moon has a face. I've seen it.
I've seen it change and I have changed
as well. Each dawn's a victory
until the day
one of us does not wake up.

Branches are hung with clouds
like mellifluous lace and loneliness.
All this because the moon
flew over it.



NAIYA WRIGHT lives in Virginia with her cat and dog. She is passionate about cacti, writing and cultures. She is an aspiring poet.