Tag: Original Poetry
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What’s A Few Years?
Ed Galing You wake up one morning and you are feeling good you are ninety years old live alone without a wife and take care of yourself and most of the time you are in a bad mood old age makes you that way today is different for you the sun is shining through your…
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The Children of the Secret: Claire DeWitt And The City Of The Dead, by Sara Gran—A Book Review
Marc D. Goldfinger Spare Change News I first ran across Sara Gran’s writing in a book called Dope, which was her first. I loved it. Dope was totally authentic in the sense that Sara Gran really knew what she was talking about. She was definitely familiar with the underworld of the junkie. But the book…
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Poetry from Andrew Rosen
Currency Loneliness is our constant currency. No bills, no coins, it circulates with water underground, with wind through avenues. This is human strangeness. Beings coagulate while staying separate. Loneliness springs, withers, and springs against gruff brick, our separate enclosures with openings for the hard-to-forget sun and the more erratic moon, our guardian alone and shining.…
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Tales from the wandering
“That man down the street,” she said. “I feel bad for that man down the street. Raising two children all on his own. He must be crushed.” She raised one hand, shielding her eyes from the summer rich sun. The bearded man across the street drove by in his used silver Subaru. He saw her…
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3 a.m. at The Café
It sits on a quaint yet poorly lit country road right alongside a towering willow tree that casts a sinister shadow over it. It is painted light blue with white trimmings, low windows – and upon closer inspection; the paint has started to come off. The café itself is also dimly lit with light fixtures…