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The Grove-Fiction by Kim Bonner
Sawed Off-Fiction by Allan Leverone
Buried Memory-Fiction by James Flynn
Laying Blame-Fiction by Julian Manthorne
Salmone Puttanesca-Fiction by A. F. Knott
Jedda Summons a Higher Power-Fiction by Robb White
Cherry-Orange-Grape-Flash Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
Jingles and Mr. Hammer-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Shhh...Listen to the Ekko-Fiction by Brian Fugett
Serial-Fiction by Doug Hawley
Somnium Trivium-Fiction by Michael Steven
An Arms Deal-Fiction by Matthew Licht
The Decline of the Midnight Sadist-Fiction by Gary Clifton
Stormy Night at Pussycat Manor-Fiction by Michael D. Davis
Passengers-Fiction by Dan A. Cardoza
Storm_Flash Fiction by K. A. Williams
Becoming Made-Flash Fiction by Paul Beckman
Feeling Like God-Flash Fiction by Luann Lewis
The Coyote, the Dog and the Woman-Flash Fiction by Phyllis Peterson Levine
Fried Zucchini Sticks-Flash Fiction by Cathi Stoler
A Woman of Good Hard Hands-Poem by Otto Burnwell
Abduction-Poem by Jimmy Broccoli
Jitterbug-Poem by Robert Beveridge
Abandoned House-Poem by John Short
The Beauty of Trees-Poem by Ann Marie Rhiel
Regrets-Poem by David Spicer
Hospital on the Hill-Poem by Stephen J. Golds
Panic Attack-Poem by Kevin Ribshman
The Dark-Poem by Kevin Ribshman
Empty-Poem by Connor Orrico
Endless-Poem by Connor Orrico
Effort-Poem By Connor Orrico
Corpulent Octave-Poem by Harris Coverley
Small Town Story-Poem by Harris Coverley
Dans le Bain-Poem by Harris Coverley
Many Surprises-Poem by Walter Ruhlmann
In Another Waiting Room-Poem by Walter Ruhlmann
Innocent Blood-Poem by Walter Ruhlmann
Ebola-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
I Am an Organ Donor-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Just Part of the Food Chain-Poem by Daniel G. Snethen
Today's Adventure-Poem by John Grey
Creating the Master race-Poem by John Grey
In the Old Mansion-Poem by John Grey
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

Art by Ann Marie Rhiel 2020

In Another Waiting Room


by Walter Ruhlmann



In the sheltering place I hate to dwell in,

lost on the banks of the Loire river,

the flows are unsafe,

the waters troubled,

icy, wintry air, sun rays above all.


I rang at Hardy's door.

Not the British counterpart of Laurel of course – the time

shifted from this point.

I kept no one else's appointment but mine

for I needed more pills to cure the nightmarish gaps

night knights and knives had carved in this damaged brain of mine –

I had to avoid suicide.


I laurel this room for its safeness

and quietness,

the light,

the whiteness,

the space –

frames and spaces follow me everywhere,

even in hell

or on the benches where I sat listening,

dreaming, exercising, contemplating

Bishop's art of drawing

maps and landscapes.


That morning I sat on another bench,

in another waiting room,

waiting for Hardy to come in

and ring my bell, remind me of the hell,

cure me from mental hay

fever and send away all disarray.

I sat opposite this painting

by Russian-French artist Sonia Delaunay – Long Journeys.


Colours and shapes, round and vivid, bright, dazzling,

all these effects drove me back to this place

loophole dreamt – hell hole lived – I even recognized

on the right-hand side

a woman wearing saluvas... red-striped like Sandia's.


Four panels divide the canvas where variegated ghosts

shake hands, dance, pray or swim,

eat papaya, sweets and pizza in the shades of an umbrella.


Through the window I watched magpies fly

from tree to tree, in search of food, probably.

The magpies back there feast on chelonian offsprings

as they sprout from Saziley.


I watched this leafless tree reminding me of the nervous human system.

Mine is a battle field, a war HQ, a shadow cabinet, a closet where dreams and nightmares copulate.

I watched the roof tops and the tree set on this March morning blue sky,

its clear, light blue lagoon shades invited me once more to dive

in the depths of navy blue memories

darkening my thoughts,

opening my mouth,

starting my youth,

peeling me out.


The heating system started,

I was still staring at the sky

and in a start watched the closet hiding the beast.

The flame trembling – I could hear it – would lick the erected hair on my arm:

this limb never produces any harm, resting softly and bare on the arm of the chair,

cherishing the feel of the plastic surface.


Hardy came in, my arm lifted me up, and stretched out towards the doctor's hand.

I sat on the opposite chair. He waited for my words to come out.

He expected me to hand him my SS card.

I could still see Sonia Delaunay's art.

Master of painters in my heart.

Maore let me breathe now.

Let me forget you.

Let me live.

Let loose.


me a





Walter Ruhlmann works as an English teacher, edits Datura, Beakful and Urtica. He has published close to thirty chapbooks and poetry collections both in French and English, and hundreds of poems worldwide. His blogs http://thenightorchid.blogspot.fr/ and https://nightorchidsselectedpoems.blogspot.com/

Ann Marie Rhiel is the Assistant Art Director for Yellow Mama Webzine. She was born and raised in Bronx, New York, presently living in New Jersey. She reconnected with her passion for art in 2016 and has had her work exhibited in art galleries around northern New Jersey ever since. She is a commissioned painting artist, who also enjoys photography. Her work has also appeared in Black Petals and Megazine Official.

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications 2020