Zero Readers

Category: Issue #1

Constitution Hill

DS Maolalai to leave the housearound 5pm. work done. sunsetand seabirds shining brightlyin descent upon the river,like headlights picking micafrom the surface of the tarmacadam street. to walk up north, upand onto constitution hill,the shadow of social housing.and in the park, trees standlike men wearing raincoats,quite threateningwith their hands pusheddown deep into their pockets. to […]


Thomas Zimmerman The drink might kill me: I don’t care.I type a word, I tilt my tone of voiceto reach someone I think will need it. There’s so little concrete here:a black keyboard, my stubbled jowls,dishwasher churning tides inside itself. “Be the river and the boulderin the river.” Stole it from a friend.He wants to […]

A Prayer folding on a body

Sarthak Kamble A  swollen  pigment  ablaze  like  an  Amarbel.  ridge.                                                hail. prophet.      saint.                                Pivot.a skull in a jute rag but you care about moisturizers  and  dead  pigeons  in  the  alley. Sometimes,  I   find   the  thinness   of   things remarkable. Wood […]


Mark J. Mitchell They’re always strangers,these riders,made strangerby blurred vision. Their faces—thumbprintson my useless eye. Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. Previous to the pandemic, he worked as a tour guide in San Francisco. The temporary death of tourism has left him unemployed. Before that, he worked for […]

Ashes and the scent of new colors on the backs of pepper trees

Clem Flowers Skeletal blooms along a line of angelic lites shaking out alone- backdrop to the deep, yellow gnawing inside, as I wonder again if poly-cotton blend uniform shirts, learning Swedish names of pullout sofas, and explaining delivery timetables to the irate, middle aged folks I know the want me dead because I paint my […]

Times the hard way

John Grey The air makes certainthat everyone is threatened. The space between people teeters –we chew fear,rinse with the dictator’s beer. Looking behind,we see a life we got used to,that now stares sullenlylike an abandoned dogcrapping in its water bowl. The lungs count their breaths –what if there’s onlya dozen or so left? Be grateful […]

Ambulance Sirens and Epitaphs

Justin Arthur Clark Alone. I’m eternally sitting next to empty indentions in couch cushions; leviathans churn in stomach acid again, thoughts of you stir them from their rest. Vomit and grease? Odd company to keep, but they’re all I have left of you & him & me together. No photos from holidays abroad, no keepsake […]