After the Hunt

They were men, their faces half shadowed
from flickering firelight,
I was a boy on soft ground, two old hounds
between me and the rocked ring of the pit.
Leonard would holler and a glorious sound would come from his red fiddle,
but I imagined it was the forest’s song
and my eyes would close from exhaustion and the weight of dreams.

I would warm my hands on the belly of the Bluetick,
his eyes never quite shut, always watching while resting,

ready for the chase.
“David, you ain’t sleepin’, are ya?”
Hot chocolate and pipe smoke,
the smell of coonhound and

Two old Fords with round hoods stood darkly
at our backs, facing home
where morning would pass slowly
into day
where faults and cold rain


David Magill

David Magill, born in Kansas City, Missouri, moved to Minnesota as a young boy and grew up on a hobby farm in Afton. He has been married to his wife, Patti, for 23 years. His work has recently been published in Metonym,The Esthetic Apostle, Cagibi, Swimming with Elephants, Dreamers, Wanderlust, Sky Island Journal, and Rock & Sling. He has also been nominated for a Pushcart prize in poetry for 2019.

Seclusion Principle

We live within a universe so vast

we never will perceive its full extent.


Because there are horizons that are past

the span light can speed in the firmament,

parts of the cosmos will be forever

beyond possible communication.


As fast as light, we’ll still reach them never,

for they have greater acceleration.


We here who are within it

can’t exceed light’s pace in space,

such efforts will be vexed.

Our universe grows faster than light-speed,

so isolates one portion from the next.


We cannot know that,


physical laws apply or

that effect




still follows cause.


James Ph. Kotsybar

Chosen for special recognition by NASA, James Ph. Kotsybar is the first poet to be published to another planet. His haiku currently orbits Mars aboard the MAVEN spacecraft, appears in the mission log of The Hubble Space Telescope, and was featured at NASA’s Centaur Art Challenge at IngenuityFest, Ohio. Last Summer, he performed his poetry before an international audience of scientists, journalists and actual Troubadours in their founding city of Toulouse, France, at the EuroScience Open Forum (ESOF2018) by invitation and has been invited back to ESOF2020 to be held in Trieste, Italy. Most recently he has had poems published in The Bubble, Askew, The Society of Classical Poets, LUMMOX Press, Sixfold, Mason’s Road, Encore and Scifaikuest, and has received honors from The State Poetry Society of Michigan and the Balticon 48 Poetry Competition. He especially enjoys science poetry, because of its extended shelf-life.


Big day at the Fun Show. At the AUCE (All You Can Eat) buffet—I swallow RG (Ray Gun) piece by piece, then automatic ammo. Awesome my reassembled sub-waistline. Not for gatling do by-standers gawk at me—female with humongous ghost-load, hubris muzzle, Preakness Envy. My FAFS4EmoO (First Amendment Fitness Statement for Emotional Ownership) yes-checked on background check, off to shop till I drop for killer red high heels. No more late-night specials for this chick w/chopper prick & phony asp hasps passing as concealed bra clasps.


AUCE is fighting back. I’m burping bits, barfing metallic reflux on my bib. You try walking the town, 5’4 ½”, 115 lbs., semi-automatic heater between your thighs. Wives follow me for package peek. Guys at bars fondle my epic bundle. Thrift shop, my next stop for jock strap, higher heels & folded grey carpet pad—felt, past tense of feel-good playschool mat for shooter-drill.



Charlotte M. Porter

Charlotte M. Porter lives in an old citrus hamlet in north central Florida. She is winner of the 2013 Talking/Writing flash fiction contest and the 2014 Bacopa Literary Review fiction contest. She has been top finalist for the Rose Metal Press flash fiction chapbook contest and the Calvino Prize. Look for her poetry in Baseball Bard, Burningwood, Confrontation, SLAB, Light Ekphrastic, Pea River Journal (Moby-Dick project), and Bacopa. Her poetry has been exhibited in galleries in Baltimore, MD, and Palatka, FL. For her recent fiction and creative nonfiction, see Kansas City Voices, Duende, Axolotl, Bacopa, Colp, and

Is Time Travel Possible?

At kitchen table, I regard my young self

gazing on purple bush.

Chewing sugared walnut,

I’m back savoring Gram’s delectable bread

that disentangled, soothed early years.

I devour another slice under lilac canopy.

Is this a figment, a veil that will soon dissolve?


Inquisitive mood dances festive

when my ears bend to dad’s glee-filled voice

hopping from one Croatian word

to the next sonic utterance.

I open unlocked door to his enticing vibrato.

My dinky feet shuffle, joined hands, clap pure glee.

Can this be real right now, right here?

I know that it is, even as my hair thins silver

looking more like her every day.


These visions, these sounds ferment in me,

sooth as a cradle song.

Some may call these illusions, memories,

nonsense, living in the past, but she is here

so is button accordion on his happy knee.

His slippered feet bounce like gossip at family picnic.

Incandescent images sober me,

when her quiet voice speaks to scatter silence.

“You only live once” resounds.

Eyes look through me as if through a pane of glass.


I see reflected future self as hers.

We sit at long-ago kitchen table,

she uses elegant gestures,

exaggerated movements I recognize as mine.

Understand her molten tenderness—

a hope for my vintage self.

In comfortable drowse we peer out window.

Sprawling sunburst afternoon warms flowering lilac

exactly like it was— pungent and comforting

many years ago, like today, or maybe tomorrow.

I overflow with miraculous zest,

Transfixed into wondering if “we only live once”

is but a slip in time?


Inspiration from “Brief Answers to Big Questions by Stephen Hawking


Marianne Lyon

Marianne has been a music teacher for 43 years. After teaching in Hong Kong, she returned to the Napa Valley and has been published in various literary magazines and reviews including Ravens Perch, TWJM Magazine, Earth Daughters and Indiana Voice Journal. She was nominated for the Pushcart prize in 2017. She is a member of the California Writers Club and an Adjunct Professor at Touro University in California.


Photo p.193

The Great White Way looking north,

February 21, 1964.


The smoke hangs over the street

drifting north from Times Square

where the Camel sign reigns

and the man exhales and exhales


the unfiltered cigarette. My father

burned through three packs a day.

Butts would float on top of urine

in the toilet, evidence that he could piss


and smoke simultaneously. I remember

the unending stream. Here the billboard looms

over Hector’s, a cafeteria, one of many

scattered across Manhattan.


Feb 21 1964, a year my father was alive.

It must have been late when this photo was shot

given the lack of traffic. Two dim headlights

in the foreground. Shadows head downtown.


A record store lights up the lower

right corner, but it’s that rhythmic

smoke, the steady beat of the lungs,

that uninterrupted puff of a man in a cap,


a postman, a policeman, Everyman who sends

a plume into the air like a wish, a halo

reimagined over and over. It just killed

everyone who saw it, even my father.



Paul Lieber

 “Interrupted by the Sea,” Paul’s second collection of poetry was published this year. (What Books Press) His first collection, “Chemical Tendencies,”(Tebot Bach) was a finalist in the MSR poetry contest. He also received an honorable mention in the Allen Ginsberg Contest. Twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Paul produces and hosts “Why Poetry” on Pacifica radio in L.A. and Santa Barbara. Guests have included Poet Laureates, National Book Award Winners and many known and lesser-known poets. Paul’s poems have appeared in The Moth, N.Y. Quarterly, Patterson Review, Askew, Poemeleon, Alimentum, and many other journals and anthologies. He has taught creative writing in poetry, short stories and playwriting at Loyola Marymount University and facilitates the poetry workshop at Beyond Baroque, the oldest literary institute in Los Angeles. Paul works as an actor and has performed on and off-Broadway and in numerous films and TV shows.

Mozart’s Starling

I read somewhere that

Mozart had a pet starling


He called the starling singvogel

or was that an old German toy


He taught the bird to sing a song

or was it the other way around


And did the bird really come

when Mozart called or did it


secretly wish it belonged to

Constanze of the soft breast


instead of Wolfie (Johannes

Chrysostomus Wolfgangus


Theophilus Mozart to give

the man his proper name)


If I had a starling I’d call it

Constanze and ask it to sing


a song about the brief musical

career of Mozart’s starling


an avian concerto from

one composer to another


Sally Zakariya

Sally Zakariya’s poetry has appeared in some 75 print and online journals and been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Her most recent publication is The Unknowable Mystery of Other People (Poetry Box, 2019). She is also the author of Personal Astronomy, When You Escape, Insectomania, and Arithmetic and other verses, as well as the editor of a poetry anthology, Joys of the Table. Zakariya blogs at

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