I’m sitting at the nurse’s station cleaning my glasses with an alcohol prep pad. Looking though the newly cleaned lenses, I’m dismayed to find that not only are my scrubs wrinkled but there’s a brown smudge on my pant leg. What is that—betadine? Peanut butter from when my kids hugged me goodbye this morning? 

COLLECTION OF POETRY FROM 10 FEMALE AND NON-BINARY AUTHORS, SELECT IMAGES FROM COLOMBIAN ARTIST

PARIS — The most uncomfortable thing about being naked in a museum, it turns out, is the temperature. A half-hour into the first nudist tour of the Palais de Tokyo, a contemporary art museum in Paris, I had gotten used to the feeling of exposure, but I hadn’t acclimatized to the cold air circulating through the cavernous galleries.

Patrick E. Horrigan, in his new book Pennsylvania Station, weaves together two, carefully articulated, grand themes, one of which would have been enough to tackle, more than enough,  for your average novelist.

Patrick E. Horrigan, in his new book Pennsylvania Station, weaves together two, carefully articulated, grand themes, one of which would have been enough to tackle, more than enough,  for your average novelist.

I see you now

from Brooklyn

and on the train, larger 

than green lady liberty.

He retired, didn't quit his day job, one of the first second third generation immigrant youth pining for space, for more road, aspirations for a better life, "making it in America." The promised land, New Jersey, Springsteen, Patti Smith, WC Williams, Ginsberg, Eliot Katz & Jack Wiler, myriads more, all legends, where the ordinary is extra and the Average is Whitman's Divine Average.

It was 4:15 – fifteen minutes after I said I’d be there to pick her up, and I wasn’t even in my car yet. Geez! The phone rang.  It was my sister. “Can’t talk now, I’ll need to call you back. Mom’s waiting and…”  

“Uh, yeah! She’s called me three times wondering if you’d forgotten her at the church,” she said tersely.

“Gotta go.”  The only reason I was stuck with this job was because my sister, Laura, was at home taking care of two sick kids. As I approached the intersection, a block from the church, I noticed an elderly woman in front of me. She was perfectly still. 

In the spirit of Marvin Gaye, one of several artists honored in No One Can Be at Peace Unless They Have Freedom, this volume is Michael Simanga’s What’s Going On book. It is an urgent and majestic mix of inner-city-blues-what’s-going-on-save-the-children--mercy-mercy-me-right-on-wholy-holy sensibilities remastered for our times.

The “David Bowie is” exhibit transforms the life of a music legend into a display of colorful
artistry set to the backdrop of the singers greatest hit music at the Brooklyn Museum. The Bowie
exhibit is unique in its style serving as a tribute to David Bowie and his diverse music.

As science continues to move humanity forward at a break-neck pace, a question from philosophers remains – just because we can, does it mean we should? What implications does man face as we continue to adopt new, and often questionable, technologies?

Debut author K.K. Edin seeks to address these questions, and many more, in his debut
science fiction epic, The Measurements of Decay, a riveting and profound tale that upends how we think about time, space, and humanity’s place in the universe.

          I must praised Feast for his depiction of me or, at least a character modeled on that wayward waif, Steve Dalachinsky. At that time, I had not fully acquainted myself with the book and find that the Steve character doesn’t have much of a role in the story.

I’m sitting inside a storage closet. There is no office chatter coming from the hallway. Its Good Friday. This room houses a surplus of desk chairs piled high and paper products for the pantry kitchen around the corner that I have to restock.

Paint brushes

how many times my mind wanders, 
Journeys, to thoughts of you
Memories that at times fail me

Josie kneels over the man, her back foot scooted beneath her with the front leg propped in a kneeling position. She assesses the scene, taking note of all the details; the man who’s not breathing, the AED beside him, and the people surrounding her. She taps the figure on the shoulder and shouts, “Are you OK?”