Numen – a poem by Sanjeev Sethi


Inclemency turns on
the atmospheric pulse
to smudge the shift.
This is not a taint.

When stars bounce
you cannot bridle them.
At best you can alter
future spins.

Forlorn edges look for links.
Langue of a family stings.
In numbness of one’s inner self
fenestration oxygenates.

Sanjeev Sethi is the author of three books of poetry. His most recent collection is This Summer and That Summer (Bloomsbury, 2015). His poems are in venues around the world:  After the Pause, Spirit Fire Review, Soul-Lit, London Grip, M58, Otoliths, Postcolonial Text, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai, India.

Metaphysical Queries – a poem by Adam Levon Brown

Metaphysical Queries

Have you ever stopped to think of
the vibrational energy of your being?

How the naked human senses can
only see within a super-limited scope?
Hell, dogs sense more than us.

And then stop to think that maybe
you’re in more places than one
because of a potential multiverse?

I’m just sitting here thinking, where am I?
The possibility that my consciousness and
essence are actually connected to some
greater consciousness somewhere out in
the cosmos shocks me. And what of love?

Is love the highest vibration that
we humans can attain?

Is that why we all seek it?


Adam Levon Brown is an internationally published author, poet, amateur photographer. He is Founder, Owner, and editor in chief of Madness Muse Press. He has had poetry published hundreds of times in several languages, along with 2 full collections and 3 chapbooks. He also participates as an assistant editor at Caravel Literary Arts Journal.

Cardio Theater – a poem by Tom Snarsky

Cardio Theater

This flock of birds feeds on willingness
to merge with others in a common flight
over our quantum terrain of meaning-
lessness, our perplexed transvection an
object for discussion or disdain or distant
mistrust, at least for as long as our fathers
are still around, seemingly always recited
in the King James translation, “who art”
&c., & who indeed, feeling like Geoffrey Hill
on a Monday afternoon, could be in heave-
n? & still a fixedness gets us, holds us in
arrears, tells me jokes but won’t help me
fix this tie or finish my eulogy, not mine but
one I’m meant to deliver, like fireworks or
cigarettes over a state border, a curve
these same birds traverse every day, some-
times even shitting on it, on the very idea
of separation, as their shifting cloud tight-
ens & then (at last) begins to disperse
into the reddish-pink of this finished day.

Tom Snarsky teaches mathematics at Malden High School in Malden, Massachusetts, USA

abandoned church – a poem by Rebecca Kokitus

abandoned church

hardwood littered with candles and hymnal pages / feel my flesh crawl like cobweb brush, ghost finger caress / half inside half out like purgatory

false idol nightmare face painted above the altar / forever smirking at “til death do us part” / batshit crazy stir crazy Jesus / tired of haunting this place / wanted dead or alive / worship like ghost hunting

draw ouija board on torn out bible page / forgotten psalm

fill the cathedral with flashlight glow / inspect the dirty wound /each time you revisit this place you bleed / blood oath with the ghosts

imagine getting married here / spray painting your vows on the walls beside the bleeding signatures / steeple pigeons sing you down the aisle / wearing dusty tulle drapery as a veil / mummified

feel around in the dark for the secrets the night keeps / written in braille

Rebecca Kokitus is a part time resident of Media, PA just outside Philadelphia, and a part time resident of a small town in rural Schuylkill County, PA. She is an aspiring poet and is currently an undergraduate in the writing program at West Chester University of Pennsylvania. She has recent work in Rag Queen Periodical and Moonchild Magazine, and more work in other places. She tweets at @rxbxcca_anna.


Moving on Water – a poem by Carolyn Oulton

Moving on Water

The wind coming down
is thrown into rock
by the sea’s fist
over and over.

This water is solid
to the touch,
wedge-shaped gulls
are rocking to its beat

and its veins run like a map
of the hand that
is always being punctured
and made whole again.


Carolyn Oulton‘s poetry has been published in magazines including Orbis, The Frogmore Papers, iota, Seventh Quarry, Ariadne’s Thread, Envoi, New Walk, Upstreet, Acumen and Ink, Sweat and Tears. Her most recent collection Accidental Fruit is published by Worple Press. Her website is at

illumined absences: iii – a poem by Sudeep Adhikari

illumined absences: iii

there is an absolute calm beyond the
spreadsheets of my saudade; the songster
under-souls, I can hear their chirps

and rhythm of the absence

entwined with the sonic
multitude of my mundane contracts.

what can’t be said, must be passed over
in silence, wittgenstein said.

buddha did not utter a freaking word.

absolute silence is a myth, john cage
would have said.

I watch the fireflies coming into life
from the worm-holes of void. I never felt

so complete; so full of rainbowed lack.


Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer from
Kathmandu, Nepal.  His recent publications were with Beatnik Cowboys,
Chiron Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Midnight Lane Boutique, and
Occulum. Also a Pushcart Prize nominee for the year 2018, Sudeep
is currently working on his 4th poetry-book Hyper-Real Reboots.

And so I say – a poem by Adam Levon Brown

And so I say


Hypnotic transience

circulates through

the body of time


And so I say;


Dance with the bones

of your ancestors

until you join them


Hedonists sip on the



And so I say;


Burn in the flames

and spread your ashes

to the edge of the world



Achilles is gone forever and

Sleep is the brother of death


and so I say;


Light your candles now

before dusk settles

on your eyes


Adam Levon Brown is an internationally published author, poet, amateur photographer. He is Founder, Owner, and editor in chief of Madness Muse Press. He has had poetry published hundreds of times in several languages, along with 2 full collections and 3 chapbooks. He also participates as an assistant editor at Caravel Literary Arts Journal.

A View from a Window – a poem by Janet Krauss

A View from a Window

after the Charlottesville, VA race riots, August, 2017

The birds like to perch on the leafless tree.
“They have a better view of things,”my husband observed.
A better view whether they sit together,
or on separate branches. Clear all around
to rest a while, test the air, the wind where next to fly.

An artist said, “All I need is a framed window
to view life.” Life that offers the vagaries of weather,
a ballet of light on sun-splintered water,
an aerial show of suspended clouds
and only a squabble between gulls over a dropped clam.

All this far from hate-mongering
herds and white coned creatures wielding
torches and hurling words heavier than rocks.


Janet Krauss, a widely published poet, has two books published, Borrowed Scenery(Yuganta Press), and Through the Trees of Autumn(Spartina Press), 2005 and 2007, respectively. She was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She retired in May, 2017 after 39 years of teaching writing and literature at Fairfield University where she received the Adjunct Award of the Year in 2006. She also enjoys teaching creative writing in the Bridgeport, CT schools. She has participated three times in the Wickford Art Association Poetry and Art exhibit. In addition, she is co-director of the poetry program of the Black Rock Art Guild in Bridgeport, CT. And she attends the Connecticut Poetry Society workshop at the Wilton Library.

Aging, Weston Priory – a poem by Wayne-Daniel Berard

Aging, Weston Priory

Who will last longer,
me or this place?
It feels like an old
marriage. We say
to each other, “Don’t
be hurt, but I hope
I go first.” In its
heyday, this hill
Vatican II Woodstock
every Sunday. I never
came then, youthfully
declaiming “if everyone
likes it, there must be
something wrong” forty
years and a conversion
later, hineni
here I am, three
times a year the
brothers grey without
replacement like
an old marriage I
say, “who will refuge
me when you are
gone?” Still
I don’t want
to go first
of all that’s wrong.


Wayne-Daniel Berard teaches English and Humanities at Nichols College in Dudley, MA. Wayne-Daniel is a Peace Chaplain, an interfaith clergy person, and a member of B’nai Or of Boston. He has published widely in both poetry and prose, and is the co-founding editor of Soul-Lit, an online journal of spiritual poetry. His latest chapbook is Christine Day, Love Poems. He lives in Mansfield, MA with his wife, The Lovely Christine