Linda M. Crate… I Want to Break You


i want to break you

i want to break you into all the hearts
you shattered, and slam your
spaceship into saturn
make you dizzy on her rings;
and then when you think it can’t get any worse
have jupiter’s eye swallow you whole—
you have little regard for anyone’s emotions
except your own,
and you utter lies of insincerity and play
mind games that are dizzying and cruel and so
i want to rid the world of your presence
no one deserves to be broken into all the stained
glass pieces that you shattered my heart
you fancied yourself a wolf,
but wolves are loyal;
you’re just a dishonest fox that hasn’t grown into his
fur yet,
and i hope a hunter skins you for your hide
because as beautiful as it is your soul and heart are blacker
than obsidian or coal;
if you thought you were going to crash my ship
submerge my body until i drowned so you could steal my dreams
think again—
like a phoenix i rose from my ashes
maybe one day heaven will let me burn you.


Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian native born in Pittsburgh yet raised in the rural town of Conneautville. Her poetry, short stories, articles, and reviews have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print. Recently her two chapbooks A Mermaid Crashing Into Dawn (Fowlpox Press – June 2013) and Less Than A Man (The Camel Saloon – January 2014) were published. Her fantasy novel Blood & Magic was published in March 2015.

Copyright © 2016 by Linda M. Crate







Pratima Annapurna Balabhadrapathruni… I Almost Drowned: One Girl’s Body Remembers


I Almost Drowned: One Girl’s Body Remembers

A vase of lilies toppled,
tossing me back
into a twenty year old memory.
I choke
on the flowers
my skin mottled, the water darker,
only the lights on the pier
to salvage the self from sinking
into the murky underbellies of night.
Fish, tadpoles, larvae
memories dance with flecks of dust.
…Someone stole life from in here &
moved it
…with a pitcher of lemonade
poured it into a glass
and shook me awake.
It made my hair dance around
like dry hay.


Pratima Annapurna Balabhadrapathruni is a writer, poet and artist from Singapore. In the summer 2014, she participated in the Advanced Non-Fiction Seminar conducted by the International Writing Program, Univ. of Iowa. She enjoys interviewing poets and writers from her website is

Copyright © 2015 by Pratima Annapurna Balabhadrapathruni








Margaret Elysia Garcia… Negotiations



I put on the red dress
and the leopard fur collar
and I know already
it’s for me, it’s not for you,
but it’s Friday night
and Mom is watching the kids
and we’ll go through this charade
of working on it
whatever it is that’s suppose
to keep us together
to keep us a family
for how much longer
til they have diplomas in their hands
and resentment in their hearts.


We keep looking to make it work
but the engines are running
the wheels are turning
the lights are glowing
it’s just that no one’s home
it’s just that no one’s here.


I meet up with you and you’ve
showered and cut your hair.
It looks romantic and sexy
and the dinner won’t be bad:
We’ll eat from each other’s plates
and pay from each other’s bank account
all things equal; all things fair
all things sleepy; all things square.


I want to tell you that I quit looking
I want to tell you to keep on—
You might find her yet,
whomever she is that can look
you straight in the eye and sigh sweetly.


My love is tainted;
but you should have known that
a decade plus,
you should have known that.


If you wanted to find
the good time
the good mother
the good lie
the good truth
the good house
the good home


well I’m your woman, I suppose.
But you want the heart, the wife,
the everything I can’t.


Pushcart nominee Margaret Elysia Garcia is a fiction and creative non-fiction writer and poet based in Northern California. She’s a contributing editor for the newly relaunched Hip Mama Magazine. She also does private writing coaching as well as a memoir writing workshop in Quincy and Chester, California.

Copyright © 2014 by Margaret Elysia Garcia







April 20th… by Rafael Ayla Paez


April 20th

Because that day she broke a tile
the ray burned the trees
the streets grew silent
and I knew nothing of time
                  of your hands
of the signs
that foretold the decline
                  of your breath.


Rafael Ayala Paez (Zaraza, Guarico, April 24, 1988). Degree in Education, Language Arts mention the Universidad Nacional Experimental Simón Rodríguez (UNESR). Founding member of the Municipal Writers Network of Zaraza. He has published in literary magazines in your country, of South America and Europe.

Copyright © 2014 by Rafael Ayla Paez




Love’s Self Deceptions… by B.Z. Niditch


Love’s Self Deceptions

When I journeyed
to Balbec searching
for wisdom
from Marcel Proust
to seek his grounds
for finding signs for love
heightened by the springs
of the countryside
far away other professors
      and student bodies
driven from the Eiffel Tower
cafes and tourist traps
                   to find his secret
of what will remain after us,
it wasn’t affairs
of business or sated times
which will collapse
it was in art
that you believed
and realizing it (like a holograph
                            on puffs of clouds)
was no longer deceived.


B.Z. Niditch has published three times, thus far, on He was also one of several favorites in Issue 4, Heart Splatters Into Significance. If you google him you can find him all over the place. In additon to writing word music, B.Z. Niditch writes plays, fiction, and teaches. He Lives in Brookline Massachusetts.

Copyright © 2013 by B.Z. Niditch