Jane And Finch
By: Michael Koo Photo: source I am from the fires Of Jane and Finch From the mist of wet concrete And urine I am from a sex soaked bed From whip and a wail From castration to salvation From the shores of death by Loblaws…
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Blood And Chamomile
By: Jordan Thompson My floors creek under the footsteps of ghosts. Hide and seek. Just the two of us. Pitch black except for the muted beam of sunlight breaking through the filthy basement window. Count to ten. Flash Memories rattle chains. His heavy boots dropped at…
A Trick of the Light
By: Johanna Skelly On a chrome-cold winter’s morning, I look up at the overpass. A commuter train is rocketing across my line of vision. The inter-play of golden-thin, early-morning sun and billowing exhaust fumes from a lineup of cars combine to imprint the image of the…
Selby’s House
By: Stacey Bowen Due from the whistling wind and bitter cold that danced around his frost bitten finger tips; Selby’s inner ear was constantly aching from the persistent drumbeat of pain. How he longed to sit and have shelter, so to ease the throbbing in his…
She Who Struggles
By: Jade Brooks And this is who I struggle for This is who I fill my brain with knowledge for My heart with love for My spirit with resilience for As they say, there’s a method to the madness & no step walked in resilience is…
Rocks Don’t See It
By: Ken Rosser What a thing to say? How do we know rocks don’t see what we do, or what we don’t? Just because rocks don’t talk to us, doesn’t mean they have nothing to say; they merely have taken our measure, and don’t want to…