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The Fifer of Momentshttp://www.abyssapexzine.com/
The Fifer of Moments by James K. Isaac Sol played his fife to distract the crowd, pulled notes of melodious history through their minds, knotted personal moments into the present. He gave the gents a...
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“Dust of Creation” by Heather M. Browne
______________ Heather M. Browne is a faith-based psychotherapist and recently emerged poet, published in the Orange Room, Boston Literary Review, Page & Spine, Eunoia Review, Poetry Quarterly,...
View Article“Supernova Sunday” by Ralph Monday
How strange to think that the death of a star exploding as a silent ghost in an abandoned house gave rise some unfathomable time later to these Sunday musings. I am a space orphan not knowing what...
View Article“At that age when we girls become fairies” by E. Kristin Anderson
Fifteen is before the wings come—no, that’s wrong. At fifteen we’ve begun to feel the nubs of bone pushing at the muscle, the skin of our backs. These bones aren’t right. We itch until the skin burns...
View Article“The Next Generation” by Vanessa Kittle
Vanessa Kittle The Next Generation Fingernail clippings fall as rain from a blasted sky – crawling across old newspapers like roaches. He moves close to her, tells her to take off her shirt, says he...
View Article“Elegia Nam Homines” by Lynette Mejía
When you are done with this place, come and gone like the dinosaurs before you, we’ll sit around eating cereal from your boxes, smoking your cigars, toasting to your waste. We’ll remember you forever...
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“Rehabilitation” by Joshua Gage
______________ Joshua Gage is an ornery curmudgeon from Cleveland. His first full-length collection, Breaths, is available from VanZeno Press. Intrinsic Night, a collaborative project he wrote with J....
View Article“Pareidolia” by Kristin E. Anderson
The old taupe pathway branches off into the canary grasses – and fog. A silver wood pitch – the old barn roof – looms in the field. A person trap, or home for owls. There is no map of this place who...
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Mimosa
Mimosa by Greg Forshaw “Can I show you something?” she asked him in fluent if flat English, having come out into the primal light of July in Sicily from the gloom below the strangler fig. Surprised,...
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Redcoats
Redcoats by Larry Hodges I was hidin’ behind the tribute tree snackin’ on sugar-plums when the redcoat came down the chimney on the night of 24th December. If Ma and Pa knew they’d thrash me and...
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