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Nature
by MARGHERITA MORO (Italy)
December 2019
The grass stings my thighs and whispers at me to move my legs so that it may look upon the stars
by ELLA GREEN (New Zealand)
December 2019
I try to think of death as an ocean; uncharted and unknown, but vast.
by ELEANOR LEWIS (Wales)
December 2019
i have come back
to the village i swore i would never see again
by ENLING LIAO (Australia)
September 2019
Late afternoon. I never knew a whisper, soft and sweet, could sing
by ELIZABETH BUNTIN (United States)
April 2019
There is a certain inscrutability in the mercurial ebb and flow of life in the woods, an unassuming cadence that settles just beyond my naive circumspection. The dry sweep of the wind’s touch is fond and insidious in turns . . .
by MAI MCGAW (United States)
April 2019
On a frosty October morning, I walk to a field
And lie flat on my back in the dewy grass.
