by Livingston (This story contains drug use and overdose) There wasn’t any sign that Jordan had been crying alone on the rooftop when Isaac called out to her. No Swift or Sheeran playing at max volume. Just her and the fog and the red glow from the bridge lights on…
by Steven R Weiner There was a thin dignifiedUpright old ladyAt the front counter –You know the type – they gatherIn churches and other sanctuaries –Paying for her toast and tea with small change.I wondered what she meant by saying“I was up late watching the moonMending its silver-haired cloud fineryWith…
by Jessica Hensley Students at Southern New Hampshire University were invited to submit essays in celebration of women’s contributions to society, with a focus on a particular woman who inspired the writer to share her story. This essay was chosen to be published in The Penmen Review on International Women’s…
by Jennifer Page My dad was fascinated by quantum physics. “The physics that explains how everything works: the best description we have of the nature of the particles that make up matter and the forces with which they interact.” (New Scientist) My favorite time of day when I was five was when…
by Ralph Souders The last cars of a slow moving, westbound freight train clamored noisily through the empty, Riverside station as Jack Archer prepared to brew some more coffee. The rush hour had long since passed and he had sold about eighty cups of his hearty, hot beverages that morning. Soon…
by Lisa Leibow NARRATOROur annual day of drunken excessTraces back two and a half thousand years,To Shushan Kingdom, which stretchedAcross one hundred lands from IndiaOver to Ethiopia.The story starts with a sumptuous feast.A six-month-long party at King’s castle,Feet strolled on tile of onyx and garnets.Where tapestries hung from purple tassels,Wine…
by Steven R Weiner The music of barely singingIs hard to writeCan scarcely be heardLike voices rising from green wood,Shy smoke mixing with the steam,A little sibilance behind the daily buzzingLike harmonics so subtle that you can’t hearThem but the sound’s so full and richOr thin as an old tea…
by Christian Sexton She looks like a common painting, so common that I can’t decide which one. And she’s plain. She’s the person between girl and womanhood that’s not stunning and not ugly. You walk by her every day and forget her seconds afterward. “I am not from here,” she…
by DS Maolalai the classical musicof countryside birds perchedin ivy and trees, and seagullsa climax cacophony – jazzand it’s popular form – hardened musicwith teeth in a traffic jam.I hear it from rooftopsand look out from my windowon rooftops like rocks brokebelow me – chaotic and coveredwith the grey white…
by Eric Sommer Belzoni stood in the doorway, squinting into the dark interior. On the back wall, a large sign said Barbershop; it had a large, old-style peppermint-stick barber pole sign out front, too, which drew him in from the street. The interior, as best he could tell, had all…