J. R. Solonche Botanical Gardens If yellow is the color of joy, then here is joy enough for a city of the miserable, and if red is love’s color, then here is red enough for all the cups of the loveless. J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since the 70s and is the […]
Read MoreDale Wisely
J. R. Solonche “Mistake”
J. R. Solonche Mistake It means “an error caused by a lack of skill,” which means a life, a whole life, can be an error caused by a lack of skill. J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines since the 70s and is the author of six poetry collections.
Read MoreFrom the Editors
Tony Press Joins OSP We are delighted to have Tony Press join the editorial team. Thanks, Tony, and welcome! Dale & Elizabeth
Read MoreScott Lilley “Aged”
Scott Lilley Aged Time flicked the dirt from underneath its fingernails onto our faces. Scott Lilley is twenty years old reading English and Creative Writing at Lancaster University, his work has been featured in The Airgonaut and The Eunoia Review.
Read MorePeggy Liuzzi “Your hands are cupped …”
Peggy Liuzzi Your hands are cupped but empty in your lap, dry and light as milkweed husks in winter. Peggy Liuzzi lives in snowy Syracuse, NY where she enjoys reading and writing poetry.
Read MoreF. John Sharp “When The Future Was More Fun”
F. John Sharp When The Future Was More Fun It used to be that a dystopian movie or book would be a chance to think, “There’s no way we would ever let the world get like this,” yet here we are, with a front row seat to exactly how the world could get like that. […]
Read MoreMarie-Claire Bancquart (translated by Wendy Hardenberg)
Marie-Claire Bancquart (translated by Wendy Hardenberg) Paroles Exorcisées de l’essentiel marchant de faille en faille barrées par des vols d’oiseaux nos paroles du moins étaient comme un silence de dormeur qui rêve au silence en plein fracas des bulldozers. Words Exorcised of the essential marching from flaw to flaw criss-crossed by flights of birds at […]
Read MoreDavid Black “Homelessness”
David Black Homelessness My bed is made of cement and the sign above it reads, “No parking tow-away zone”, this is my address. David Black started writing poetry as a way to cope with a mental illness and has a self-described eclectic style.
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