I can hear the knocking,and the place is rocking,but my cell needs unlocking.  Between the sun and moonis there a spare roomfor me and my teaspoon? Inside outer space,is there a magic placefor me and my bookcase? Beyond the vast universe,is there an angelic nurseto reverse life’s curse? Editor: Erynn Crittenden

My brain is like those old carousel projectors Seeing worlds overlaid like dreadful specters. I see the world in chapters, stories (lines & verse) And in this way, I conceive my own universe. Without even trying, I have seen my friends die. Watched loved ones age in my mind’s eye. Their last moments, all crisp ...

The Beige Woman, a color poem, is Adriana Philips' personal tale of living as a mixed-race woman. Can you love yourself in your own skin?

My dreams are a different world now. My reality is much the same. A surprising year. It made us distant. It’s become normal, my reality- My reality is the same. It didn’t change much. I lost no one. But is this normal now? All I enjoy is virtual now. These days, distance is relative. A ...

The sugary sweetnessThe bitter yet necessary salt Blending with unique flourIntoxicating yeastFills the air Water combinesMolded by the powerOf unseen handsTo flatten the prideFor true strength to rise Placed in the oven Warmness overflowsPreparing the bodyFor the harshness outsideWith a crusty skinYet holding dearTo the softness withinAs a guideFor its existenceUntil darknessOpens it’s mouthTo finally ...

Trust blessed mewith unbearable lonelinessas you loved awaymy self-esteemreplacing it with fear and doubt Your love gifted mewith shattered confidenceplacing no valueon my presenceshowing no appreciationfor my time I cannot love you anymorefor my beautiful hearthas been shatteredYet-this broken heartStill beats Photo by Hernan Pauccara from Pexels

Life doesn’t hand happiness in abundance scared we will want nothing but the euphoric feeling of satisfaction when there’s plethora of feelings to experience. Those feelings which make happiness much more blissful. Life a series of fleeting moments of happiness interrupting usual sludge called life. Our choices cement us within our own imposing personal prisons. ...