Author / Momoka Murata

    Loading posts...
  • Angel Splinters – Chris Cleary

    Angel Splinters        Daddy’s cigarette smoke snakes through the branches of the white plastic Xmas tree. The dust of Route 11 kicked up by his flight spatters the ornaments and chokes the cherub atop surveying the scene below. Confusion balls up little Angie’s face. She could have caught all the dust and kept…

  • Kakku – Karen Frederick

    Kakku   “Get to Shore” We floated lifeless among pieces of our lives.  Sky and sea were black. The wind had died down a bit, the current curled ‘round our waists and pushed us further and further into the unknown.   By morning we found ourselves beached like great fish on a rocky black sand…

  • Donna Swift – Charles O’Donnell

      Donna Swift        Carl felt like he’d dropped into a sixties sitcom.      Fifteen minutes before the start of class, Carl sat alone, reciting a silent pep talk. He’d visited colleges many times during his career, often in his official capacity as CEO of a global company, twice to enroll daughters,…

  • Imperfect Routine – Sean Tate

    Imperfect Routine        The house was filled with the sound of aged pipes rattling as fetid and fresh water flowed back and forth to its destination. The walls, still unsure of themselves, creaked and groaned as the house continued to set after countless years spent within the concrete foundation. Sunlight cut through the…

  • Shaw’s Dream – Paul Rondema

    Shaw’s Dream        George Bernard Shaw (the screenwriter for My Fair Lady and from whom the ancient Greeks derived their myth of Pygmalion) had a deep and abiding love of the English language. That love was so intense, so incendiary, that upon his death he wished to be buried in nothing but words.…

  • Sail Away – Jeremy Cook

      Photography is Jeremy Cook’s a hobby, and nature is a great canvas.

  • The Queen – Rinat Tzemach Levi

        Rinat Tzemach Levi is a Multidisciplinary artist and art therapist. Leaving in Israel, mother of 2 kids and married. All of her works tell her personal journey in recovery from thyroid cancer.  

  • Paintings -Beth Starger

          Beth Starger is a painter based in Burlington Vermont.

  • Resurrection – Anna Allen

    Resurrection You pulled me from the graveyard Toes first It was difficult to take a breath A mouth full of dark, compact dirt But I did it for you Where did you go for so long I part-way understand Getting lost in the creases of one’s own brain But a single flower would’ve been nice…

  • Subterranean Lyric #3 – Anne Babson

    Subterranean Lyric #3 “O taste and see that the LORD is good….” – Psalm 34:8   I am nestled in the folds of filo dough, Not the nuts, not the honey, that other thing, The one you can’t identify  but that makes Baklava not just saccharine, insipid. You thought it might be cloves, but there…

  • As Of Now – Lily Crowder

    As Of Now   I want to live on the moon. I want to bathe in a crater filled with scorching water and lavender soap. Sweet serenity fills my pores. When the wind grazes your back through the small holes in the lawn chair think of me. I do envy the breeze. May I always…

  • How to Snowshoe – Anthony J. Dennis

    How to Snowshoe   One must forget the snow, the painful arch, the ominous brightness of March.   On snowshoes you must go until the sky un-names you, and the sun burns the memories from your face.   You are lost in a Sahara of snow now, far from the wheel and the plow and…

  • Hillsboro House – Alexis Draut

    Hillsboro House   I can do no wrong but my body still feels like it doesn’t belong to me. It doesn’t matter how I decide what I want to believe, because truth will always inhabit the air of my being. It doesn’t matter where I grow into the fullness of a life, for I will…

  • memories in Wellington – Alexis Draut

    memories in Wellington   Katie and I each stole a boiled egg, salted them, and ate them on the porch behind the wharekai. On a walk in a neighborhood I didn’t know, I found a red leaf and pretended it was my lips. I’m out of words to offer the sun from my mind. All…

  • Luca – Maya Elena Jackson

    Luca   Finally, I’m so free I could die. The carnival sign said “You can ask for anything!” I said “Do you have the silver ring I found at Bookmans, and gave To my high school boyfriend who Wore it while he Played the drums and Bent its shape? Because I am trying To find…

  • money – Anastasia Jill

    money   Her skirt is velvet and slit right up a honeyed thigh — Fendi cheeks and nails sharp brand my back in bloody gold. There is a red strap on her hip bone, the mark of a hot, leather touch. It hurts but she should be happy; after all, she has money. She dresses…

  • An Anthem for Brown – Babitha Marina Justin

    An Anthem for Brown   We grew up in a place where shades of brown mattered: from beige to burnt umber. My mother told me that black is beauty though she herself did not believe it. In the school bus, we measured our skintones against each other’s knuckles; the paler potato-peel brown always won. Some…

  • To Write – Kyle Kutz

    To Write   I’m going to die One day Having left so much undone. Sure, I’ve written some words, Told some tales, But what will they become? A drop In a bucket? Perhaps, A tsunami amid the sea? Well, If I touch Just one soul That’d be alright by me.

  • Barking Dogs and Racing Legs – Lou Marin

    Barking Dogs and Racing Legs   My Great Grand Dad, it may be noted, landed on the docks of Portland, Maine, near penniless, with but his dreams, a pair of patched dungarees, dirty jacket and a brown derby, sun-faded.   He had on his feet a brand new pair of brogan shoes, stove-black polished, that…

  • Poet’s Prayer – Carl “Papa” Palmer

    Poet’s Prayer                                                                                        Father, Son, Holy Spirit Not kneeling in a church pew reciting catechism rote, a last minute plea, genie lamp wish upon a star desire nor begging for winning lottery numbers, just here this day to say thank you for continuing to bless me in spite of my transgressions. I attended Sunday…