Word and Violin–Spoken Word Poems

Pireeni Sundaralingam with accompaniment by Colm O’Riain

These are the letters I leave behind me, / dull lines written for the censor's eye. / There are no stories here, only headlines, / statements of fact, shielding the truth. /


Parisa Roohipour

A torrent of white / noise affiliates, /


S. Kean Cattaneo

The battered gray mailbox at the end of our cul de sac used to read  “400” in red letters before some neighborhood kid (who wasn’t me) stole the four and probably hung it in his bedroom next to a Red…

Fooled by the Fifty-Seven

Aidan Sherry

The fifty-seven bus has a strained relationship with its riders.  It is a bus with unrivaled convenience and comfort.  It takes its loyal followers sometimes within feet of their final destination.  While it is a good friend to many, it…

Kicked By The Wind

Jan Rosenfeld

The years fall from you all at once / I know that now. we spent a season / watching the cat shed, after all / and she licks her paws the way I wish / ...

In the Music

Suzanne Hanser

As a child, I thrived on my family’s songs and piano music.  But I did not know then all that music could do for me.  Through it, I played out my desires, pain and turmoil.  Through it, I invented melodies…


John Lippincott

Have you ever been cut off by a careless biker while you were strolling peacefully down the sidewalk?  That biker is usually me late for class. However, yesterday morning I was a careful and calm biker who slowly pedaled his…

Excerpt from Tiger Lilly

Chris Parlon

  EVELYN goes back into the kitchen. TIMOTHY checks his watch. TIMOTHY: Three-thirty, you bastards. (sighs ) Fun, fun, fun. EDMUND enters from the front door, wearing a long, expensive-looking coat and a woolen hat. TIMOTHY turns, sees him,

Groups With Guitars

Didi Stewart

Clive Duffy cleared away the empty glasses and mopped the bar. It was almost closing time. Soon he’d be popping down to Lime Street and meeting the lads for a pint or two. They’d have a game of darts, a…