Lonely men interrupt the dark with the snap of shoes on sidewalk. Skyscrapers just got taller, more empty. Traffic thins like blood on heparin. Solemn as a monks’ processional is the way home. But with frog-sac croaks in lieu of chanting. John Grey is an Australian poet and US resident. Recently published in New Plains […] … More “After the Bars Close” by John Grey — THE CITY KEY
Yes, death does come for all for every summer, there must be a fall but we always leave a part of us in the world and the part of the world which was loved always stays in the immortal heart.
Smiles Needed a place to rest my bag, had something to put in, something else to take out. Crowded Red Line train, stood in the middle, one empty aisle seat, beside an old woman who slept, scarved head on the glass, worldly possessions at her feet, on her lap. Pilled blanket cradled slumped shoulders. Blessed […] … More Two poems by Jeff Nazzaro — THE CITY KEY
After eight years of oftentimes grueling work, I am so happy to announce that my memoir, The Borderland Between Worlds, is forthcoming, in early 2020, from Auctus Publishers. Thank you, Krish Singh, for publishing writers underrepresented in publishing!
Nothing’s perfect just what appears to be but even those things one day must fade every bit taken away – the only power within those seemingly perfect things is that for one brief moment, they really had been.
She welcomed the end of summer’s oppression, the pressure under, over, everywhere having cooked her from within. In summer, the sun weighed down, disheartening from dreams, while the wandering, distracted mind meandered, wished to be someplace else, wished to be free, somewhere else where she was listened to, was esteemed, someplace else where she never … More “Saved from Summer” by Ayesha F. Hamid
Searching in cities, walking aimlessly, looking for the past, she breathed in remembering what she used to be, believing, supportive, sweet. Scanning faces futilely, she braced herself for the realization that they really weren’t the same faces though they appeared to be. The ghosts haunting her wouldn’t easily be excised, the torture of what could … More “Girls on Trains” by Ayesha F. Hamid
If someone isn’t rich, find another with funds, silver, diamonds, gold, enough to see you through. If he’s not cold enough, with no head to fend off the brutality of life, then find a man who feels less who does what he must, giving out pink slips left and right. When she’s not young enough, … More “Love in the Twenty-First” by Ayesha F. Hamid
We stood in front of an encompassing pool, blue and beautiful. The path to the water’s center, a platform for our confessions and truths while liquid remained, bubbles cascading. At once, we jumped in, forgetting everything, becoming what we used to be before the sorrow seeped through.
When you think it can’t, that it won’t come with nothing in sight, just night in front of you, it do, it do come through, the smallest strand of light in darkness just barely enough to see you through.