“14” poem by Haley Whishaw

  14 poem by Haley Whishaw It’s Sunday. It’s Sunday because through the window, past the half-bloom rhododendrons and before the forest filled with bee-eating birds, the car doors of the Baptists, or the Jehovah’s witnesses, or the Unitarians are slamming and popping like the rain that has crept across the white ceiling paint as

“Crocodylia” poem by Jason Fernando

Crocodylia poem by Jason Fernando He sat heavily on the cushioned surface, eyes jittering out the window. Inside, a warm room, its low-lit scenery accented by the blue-cold glare emanating from beyond café windows, those moderating view-panes and embassies to the external. Outside, cool air shifted imperceptibly in convective motions, as visibly all was still