The Cafe Review

by Laura Delia Quintero Garcia Apenas ayer nostalgia de hojas ahogado por el polvo atado bajo el sol ardiendo sueños olfateando nubes Ahora

by Laura Delia Quintero Garcia No fue un dolor previsto tampoco intuición premonitoria maduraba el amor como madura el aire con la fruta como el

by Laura Delia Quintero Garcia I love the night–lit passages that the roots take the labyrinth of dreams skeleton of time where I search

by Taylor Mali I don’t want to tell you what you already know so I won’t tell you you’re going to die. Even so there was a time when such a

by Taylor Mali Because men murder their wives every day; because when a woman dies and it looks like a tragic accident, a botched burglary or

by Taylor Mali If you were the type of person who could, without the slightest hesitation, open your mouth and utter forth one beautiful sentence

by Thomas R. Moore Granite posts square a God’s acre, a tiny plot of blueberries and asters beside a crushed– stone drive to three new

by Thomas R. Moore After I set my book aside and turned off the Sox in the fifth when Ortiz whiffed for the second time, I dreamed of whales,

by John Driscoll, M.D. This morning I sank into myself Putting aside the cigarettes and whiskey I dropped like a stone leaving but a vanishing

by John Driscoll, M.D. He whispered seamlessly to his wooden man whose lips moved, eyes bobbed and who was painted into a black suit effortlessly

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