Zero Readers

Category: Issue #2


Camille Lewis Heartstring (Merriam Webster)noun nheart· string | \ ˈhärt-ˌstriŋ \ Definition of heartstring1: obsolete: a nerve once believed to sustain the heart2: the deepest emotions or affections —usually used in plural That movie really pulls at your heartstrings. If your heartstring isyour string heart, thenpleasedon’tpull.Pluck it with the lightest touch.A priceless harp.Play only one […]

Sunday School

Megan Nichols Praying at the altar of mowed lawnsand bursting hydrangeas, worshippingthe rumble of engines turning over, alongthe narrow row of our dead end street,I drink coffee in the matriarch neighbor’s driveway,her dogs let out like dandelion seeds. My son will be late to learn his hymnsbut early to learn about wheelbarrow rustand WD-40. What […]

A hankering for the truth

Colin James Amid parallel running tracksin the north of England,we workers saw their endingas appurtenances in railway yards.I asked the most forthright,was this a truth then?His answer “I don’t know, Mate.”And I loved him for it. Colin James has a couple of chapbooks of poetry published: Dreams Of The Really Annoying from Writing Knights Press […]

Sister Mary Frances

Megan Riggle                                   with her wry grin—a smile that curled the lips even as the rest of her face resisted. She taught us Joan of Arc and that animals have no soul –which you outright rejectedand were sent home. That summer we held a mass burialfor a litter of kittens – ten in all –after they […]

Poppy Cult

Damien Posterino I hold a catastrophe in my hands.I make a tight cup to stop it struggling out.It builds panic for an army marching,frightened boys fake bravery,their tears parachuting to death.Missiles of burning birthday balloonscelebrate this cult of our making,rivers of blood parading royal pageantswaving their hands to servants dismissed.Crowds on the banks are having […]

On this side of the mountain

Melody Wang the air was still. On his knees,arms grimy up to the elbows,the old man squinted to survey untouched terrain. His steady handwiped off a trickle of sweat, and I watchedas he cut inch-thick tubes of copper for another void-filling project. Hundredsof tiny, bleached half-shells lay scattered inthe dirt — an odd occurrence, origins […]

In the Lens

Daniel J. Flosi i.           Sea winds foam sea hymns           we disappear                      like the robin                                  d i f f u s e                                  into fall ii.           Hiding           in my god                    complex                    a geometry                              of vantage points                    desperately                    wiping                              the lens                    to find                               myself           In other people’s                    faces iii.           The plum           fallen           in ash           milky-eyed           child           smashed […]

Midnight Shift

PS Nolf Aerosol adhesive from the spray gun blows−the polyurethane parts marchingfront and back andfront and back−green and orange hummingbirds in her lungs,nights working the manufacturing line,days doused with drugs and dead dreams.Broken Buddhas line her window sill. Upon graduating from college, the best paid jobs PS Nolf could find were in factories: stitching crotches […]


Daniel J. Flosi you   wake   themorning     findits     seeds     inyour         palm now   you  mustscrape  the  dustfrom  rivers   ofsinewcrowned     likemaples       heldfast to the   sky                  still its            seedsremain  out  ofreachyou      scratchpockets  of  fatlined         goldcorvid       beakfinger   surgingrasping        onmusclemarked    withsalmon     scale stillthe    gift      is      untouchedso  you keep itclench     yourfist around theworm    tryingto   keep       it                 still Daniel J Flosi is an apparition living in a half acre coffin within the township of Rock Island, IL between the V of the Mississippi and Rock Rivers. 

Try counting raindrops in a storm

Ryan Alexander It’s UberEats. It’s super cheap.It’s 3-4-2. It’s just for you.It’s order now. It’s holy cow.It’s extra cheese. It’s hidden fees.It’s corporate culture. It’s awful vultures.It’s Black Lives Matter, so do profits.It’s idle chatter, new false prophets.It’s market makers, movers, shakers.It’s Wall Street wisdom.It’s stocks that fly. It’s men that die.It’s knees on necks. […]