Still     I hear the clouds move in the air, dead and light. I know ghosts prefer hot tap water to wine and tea in the houses they would have never chosen for residence. Trees contemplate and books burn. In the droplets of the untouchable sun live the toys of departed children.       Do You Really Think It’s Thursday?    Laundromat roofs crumple the sky, distort the voices of birds in the nearby trees. Little girls wander the streets carrying huge buckets of ketchup, spilling it, splashing it on the sidewalk. A saxophonist plays for passing UFOs … Continue reading Peledov I – Ivan Peledov

The Last Birthday   pain balloons burns, like a candle flame   his lips flicker and trickle a prayer down the eyes   silent last birthday rose needling like a thorn in his sagged balloon-like flesh caked with a culture in his temple   a geriatric ward, off like in isolation in senility   a mobile of unanswered calls   sad smile in the sun’s face fading away like evening light a last wish     A Lie   woven with the void of years in the African sands, borrowed from the life’s incomplete pages                sits in secure flat … Continue reading Kopuri S – Dr. Sreekanth Kopuri