by Dr. William S. Kilgore | Poetry | Banished from innocence so fair, Draped in clothing unneeded there, Minerals and maggots in soil call, Provided dirt we'll eventually wear,

by Dr. William S. Kilgore | Poetry | One, oh, so devious and clever Introduced a world of hurt. Snatching the granted scepter, He left us, stuck in the dirt.

by Michael McNerlin Jr. | Poetry | The darkness with its hand ever stretched out, reaching, grasping to extinguish the light. Stalking persistently it’s prey to rout, till at last comes the perpetual night.

by Jimmy Lisotto | Poetry | As winter’s barren brown surrenders to green, Spring ushers in a transformative scene. Easter is a time of growth and reflection, Praising Jesus's holy resurrection.

By Jinanne Jones Espinoza | Fiction | The morning he died, they’d sat here on the porch, drinking coffee and waiting on the sunrise as they did every morning of their twenty-one years together. Now she stands on the porch alone, hands on hips, stalwart, watching the last of the well-wishers trundle solemnly down the long driveway.

by Noel Plennert Poston | Poetry | Who calls me forth, as if I could ever be forgotten, as one of countless stars and grains of endless sands?

by John Mitchell | Poetry | Her breath smells like raspberries and it looks like she’s walked on lump charcoal the soles of her feet warm from living barefoot in a childhood she’ll remember

by Dabney Baldridge  | Poetry | Six hundred chariots charged, while The sinister sea stretched—no way out. The people pleaded without pause, claws Unsheathed, uttering untruths, hardened Like pharaoh, fearing they had lost more

By Joy Mossheart | Essay | In 2021, I was pretty good at being a princess. As close to professional as I’d probably ever get. I’d racked up six years of experience being a princess for private parties, charity fundraisers, and children’s hospital visits. I could apply false eyelashes like a pro, and shove my Merida-esque curls