Category: Uncategorized
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untitled prose poem 2
there is somewhere a permanent sadness and tonight we are sharing it; tonight i am discovering it in you, too. we are soldiers too sad to be alive. i reach for you and your loneliness obliges me; i close my eyes to get a feel for where your particular sadness hides. after a moment i…
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Braden Bales on his new EP “NOMAD”, going viral on Tiktok, and the idea that everything is a muscle
If there is one way 21-year-old singer-songwriter Braden Bales would describe himself and his debut EP ‘Nomad’, is the idea that he is a nomad looking for a home. Although Braden might call himself a bit psychotic for believing that solitude is better than a life without his main passion, music, he believes a nomadic…
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Random Melodies
Sitting aside the bank of brookI notice a turbulence whichflows under the guise of silence;I recall my life flowing the same way,it has been a decade since I startedspeaking the loudest language—silence.The horizon displays a melange of colours;it makes me manifestdifferent stages of my life…meanwhile, the sun sets over the horizon,the chirping birds head over…
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Always a Friend
My cigarette smoldered in its tray as I gazed at the name and number scribbled on the back of the pack that I knew I’d never call. The porch acted as a kind of shelter from the bright blue night that was crashing down on me. Looking down the road, it could have been any…
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The Last Job
Jack Buckley’s back was fine and that’s all he wanted to hear about it. He didn’t need any ice or lotion, and he certainly didn’t need a massage or any damn rest—even if he had been sneaking a few more painkillers than normal. A former semi-professional boxer who still went to the Golden Gloves, he…
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Trust The System
I remember, before the trial, how I tried to pull the wrinkles out of my prison clothes, tried to make myself presentable, thinking I could appear civil. My body recognizes this as shivering, because I have shivered so much before, known the cold, known the wind ripping warmth rightoff me. I press the metal cuff…
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Long sleeves & Lavender
Traffic cones markHighway rampsTo places we’ve gone before,Where redwood treesEnclose lavender hideaways.I’m not readyFor somewhere down the line,When all is left behind. ABOUT Claire Kroening is a writer of lyrical, warm, picturesque poetry and prose. They’re also a freelance editor and proofreader for other writers. Their work has been published in a multitude of online…
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The Thinker’s Curse
Some knowledge were meant to be known, whilst most were meant to be secrets. Woe to the seekers. For they have to pay with all their hearts, soul, and sanity, and even more would never be enough. Sometimes I wish I could know less. To be blind to the truth and live in bliss, unaware…
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The Drop
A father’s fingers shake inindifference as theypeel a familyapart. His august handstouch the skin ofa blameless child. A crumpled paperopens on his room floor,as a baleful grinspreads across his castoff face. His yellow palmsembark throughthe tales of a page. Not just the words, butthe gaps. Not thelanguage, but the sound taken for granted – an…
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Living in a Hyphen
african immigrant children are nothing,but the connection between two ideas.they tether themselves to two unrelatedthoughts and wonder why they fall, like autumnleaves, painted against a mundane background.their hair is soaked and scarlet, from the sea and from blood,and it wraps itself around the air like mindless weedsunable to retain language. african immigrant children open their…
Moonbow Magazine 