Stardust Review

By Kristina Gaddy Quilt I enter the Westfriedhof graveyard on a bike. At the former-Gestapo-office-now-museum in Cologne, I had taken...

By Kim Golubev We are the past men We are the present men we are lost men. We are men who lost their merit instead of past and present...

By Austin Draper I am worried that you are not well equipped. I have a question for you, Why did you intend to land on the moon so ill...

By Stuart Terman Grandmother had a mirror in the bedroom; Once and only once I saw her just pick it up, glance briefly into it and sadly...

By M. Zaman Poetry or not, vagaries of life will still feel prickly; love or no love, things-that-matter will still be overwhelming; God...

By Cole W. Williams I sunning and swim of a cormorant coven collecting on the banks of spring lake II grandmother / thick corduroy slacks...

By Warren Ward “Which German philosophers are you writing about?” The colleague across from me was genuinely interested, a rare...

By Miah Jeffra Life on Mars (after David Bowie) You stand in a space, a no space, gleaming white background light. You wear a powder blue...

Abigail Diaz here and then gone, blinding flash of light. when i returned to a silent home of longing, i howled at the moon for her, made...

Abigail Diaz a child, grinning, holds a gun up to the bleeding hole in his chest. you've been here before. the child is you. your eyes...

Abigail Diaz the world ended for the first time when i was eleven: the news sang sweet songs of expiring calendars and a black antichrist...

By Allen Plone WABI SABI to make this poem simple move it close to nothingness devolving from the word on the page to the reader’s heart...

By Marcella Hunyadi The night of my dead daughter’s sixteenth birthday, I have a dream. I am a bleeding hawk from the time when hawks...

by Mukund Gnanadesikan What you or I believe Must not always be true A product of cerebrum chained To cinderblocks of eye and ear Souls...

By Mukund Gnanadesikan In the beginning I was raw Uncut basalt Free from destiny’s fairy wand Or misdirected plans Of palsied hands That...

By Gloria R. Buckley Books about God by Deepak Chopra, St. John of the Cross, Teresa d ’Avila lay for years frozen, fixated and dusted...

By: Patrick Mathiasen Matt is sitting in his room in the hospital on our psychiatry unit, leaning back in his chair. He is tall and thin,...

By Charles Davis The river was wide and moving at a brisk clip. Its dark, choppy surface ran past desolate sandy banks suggesting some...

By: Perle Besserman They should have known they weren’t the gentrifying type. At least the wife should have known, having tried it once...

By: Amyen Fielding I have not left the apartment in thirteen days. Within these walls there is 700 square feet of refuge. No catcalls,...