Art Foster is a U.S. Marine (retired), writer, student, sailor, and a veteran of three wars. He was born in Savannah, Georgia, has lived and traveled around the world, and currently resides in Southern Louisiana with his wife and two dogs. He is pursuing an MLA in Creative Writing and Literature from Harvard University, Harvard Extension School.
By Desirae Mercedes Chacon your only 6 feet awaybut it feels like countless milesi guess the deepest sleeps occur with granite pillowsnow you’re the coldest person with the warmest heartnow you reside in the quietest neighborhood in townwhere the wind through the pines and the occasional flight of sparrow wings carry the loudest conversationsi used … More The Anger Stage of Grief
By Tamarah Rockwood Look: it ripples upon the water, this crumbled moon. Drowning in a shoreline pocked with decayed pilings, Against the abandoned building garland in graffiti, Among the ruins of the mill market unfurled and unfettered In the surge of mortality — there; the heron steps. The overly grayed fisherman who rises with the … More The Starless River
By Shambhavi Kalash i don’t own anything in redno jewels, no scarf, no lipstick, no threadmy eyes turn from bridal gleami don’t know how to respondwhen you call for me every yearlike traditionyou make me sit downand watch the sun seepinto a living roomthat belongs to neither younor to me you don’t say anythingbut i … More Red
By Joseph Cerra A neon sign blinking “BAR” hung outside but everyone called it the Oak Room. Patrons professed this started as a joke, an irony, a way of saying the old joint in no way resembled The Plaza. Yet a faded grandeur pervaded. Perhaps customers of an earlier era coined the name in genuine … More The Oak Room
By Lavanya Malhotra She is soaring through the woods, chapped goat feet noiseless over the carpet of pine needles. Doe eyes and pink cheeks, dreadfully wise, a fiery glowing Atalanta. That is how I remember Manisha. Carrying my baby brother securely in her arms as she scrambles up and down the undergrowth of the Dharamshala … More A Friend, a Face, and a Name
By Natalia Baronina Earth is a living organism. As she orbits the sun and rotates on her axis, she wakes up with the first light, and the flora and fauna come to life. And as she submerges into the darkness, she falls asleep under the stars, extending an invitation to dream. When Earth wakes up, … More The Price of Plastic
By Dani Nuchereno There isn’t much in life that you can’t grow accustomed to, Mary says to no one. With enough time, with enough exposure, even the experiences that once would have made you scream will instead be rendered mundane. You’ll grow accustomed to ice-cold baths, the kind that tint your skin a little blue. … More Almost Anything
By Jessica Rolland my sculpture (found art) gave me happiness made from a wheel.
By Patrick Dunn When I was thirteen years old, Mom and Dad never stopped screaming, blaming me for their disaster marriage. It wasn’t my fault Dad had a gambling addiction. It wasn’t me who convinced Mom to day-trade our savings away. I had endless escape-fantasies. When Grandma called and asked me to spend … More Grandma
By Karen J. Birdsell “But that’s not fair!” I cried. June 22nd, 1994. A day that would live in infamy forever, for my 4th-grade teacher, Mr. Patterson, refused to give me the highly anticipated new blue raspberry-flavored Blow Pop he’d promised the class at the end of the day because I “wasn’t staying the whole … More Co-Lom-Bia!
Brattle Street Review 