Flying Island

River Memories by Grambi Dora 1 Jogging a zig-zag between cars I flash a smile                         to my regular strangers— an old man with a brown stained bag                     a woman pushing a stroller                         with a baby boy                                     sucking on a bottle. Each running step             along the Rhein-Neckar River jogs a        ...

Editor's note: Today (Feb. 17) is National Cafe Au Lait Day. Caffeinated Alliteration by Jay S Zimmerman "What can I get you?" said the ashen blond bedroom eyed barista long lashed loveliness serving lattes I am drawn to her delightful deliciousness as I drink my morning macchiato and eat my everything bagel breakfast Bio: Jay S Zimmerman came to poetry from his life as a visual artist, composing poems to go with his art, finding as much joy in painting with words as with other visual tools. He has recently been published in Three Line Poetry, I am not a silent poet ,and Flying Island. He was born in the concrete caverns of New York, amid the trolley bells and sounds of subways, travelled south to Miami Beach and thrived in the warm sands and salt air dancing to the musical rhythms of Klesmer, Cha Cha and Bossa Nova, finally venturing to the dark soil, flat farmlands and rolling hills of the Midwest where his roots have grown and been nourished fo...

Editor's note: This month's nonfiction offers a bit of inspiration and "how-to" from a long-time student at the Indiana Writers Center. It is not intended as a plug for the Center, but rather as testament to the fact that success in writing, as in anything, is only achieved through hard work and persistence once the decision is made to go for it. Enjoy!  From Under the Rubble  By Enid Cokinos “ ’X’ never, ever marks the spot .” —Indiana Jones Nearly two decades ago, I found myself in the East-West Bookstore in Mountain View, California. It wasn’t the New Age shop’s healing crystals, Buddha statues, fragrant incense, and CDs by chanting monks that called to me, but a single book: The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. The red and gold cover, with a drawing of a snow-capped mountain and a flock of Pterodactyls, begged me to pull it off its perch, promising to open my life to new experiences if I would only give it a chance. I marched to the register. I was...

Frightful (But Delightful) Sight by Lylanne Musselman It was an ordinary day – small birds busy at the Metropark feeders, squirrels and chipmunks in busy-ness; birdsong, me snapping photographs all moving quickly – birds scattered and small rodents hid, and in one swoop down on dead log a Cooper’s Hawk perched: eyeing the frozen pond, tilting its head from side to side – eyes piercing fierce. Not wanting to see him snatch a feathery or furry friend as his tasty morsel, I still reveled in the chance to capture him digitally. Bio: Lylanne Musselman, a native Hoosier, is an award winning poet, playwright, and artist. Her work has appeared in Pank, Flying Island, The Rusty Nail, So it Goes, Issue 3, among others, and many anthologies. In addition, Musselman has twice been a Pushcart Nominee. Musselman is the author of three chapbooks, including Winged Graffiti (Finishing Line Press, 2011), and she co-authored Company of Women: New and Selected Poems (Chatter House Pres...

Returning to Rilke who was all about loneliness – seeking it, that elusive core whose perfection was denied the artist by human noise . . . Returning once again to the exalting struggle to comprehend him is an exquisite loneliness in itself. Who, to steal the poet's language, is there in all of family or friends to even begin to care about this quest to rise to that plunge? Who comes off the golf course out of the nightclub mall or boudoir to stand alongside the poor reader even to watch him watch him wrestle with the angel? — by Dan Carpenter Bio: Dan Carpenter is an Indianapolis native and resident and a freelance writer. He has published poems in Poetry East, Illuminations, Pearl, Xavier Review, Southern Indiana Review, Maize, Tipton Poetry Journal, Flying Island and other journals. He also has published two books of poems, The Art He’d Sell for Love (Cherry Grove, 2015) and More Than I Could See (Restorati...

The Groundhog’s Shadow by Anna Grignon Your absence will foretell a brisk return   from wintertime, its freshly sheeted bed,   your presence product of the warmth you spurn. Your witnesses display their hats like urns,   as long and black as what we see ahead ; your absence will foretell a brisk return. We fear our final hour will adjourn   forecasts a web of stars forever threads,   your presence product of the warmth you spurn. Eternal is the burrow we discern,   truncated is our time if you have fled.   Your absence will foretell a brisk return. An audience of flowers waits its turn   to welcome us upon immortal treads,   your presence product of the warmth you spurn. In endless cold, hell’s fires brightly burn,   the future disappears to where you sped.   Your absence will foretell a brisk return,   your presence product of the warmth you spurn. Bio: Anna Grignon is a recent newcomer to India...