Wednesday, December 5th, 2012

maybe we are all, i am afraid to say,
fading into dust and bone:
shrinking perversely into the ground,
in early preparation for the grave.
or maybe i’m the one who’s growing into an airborne tomb of my own,
body shooting for the stars like a beanstalk:
bigger frame
bigger person
bigger cage protecting
bigger heart
(or not)
nineteen and three quarters of a year later, i have
finally broken
the glass ceiling of your shoulders
yet there’s no hope of surpassing you where it counts:
no matter how tall proud seasoned i grow,
i remain forever your daughter,
almost never quite
your equal.


By: Valerie Wong
Submitted: 11/22/2012 at 3:41 p.m.

Kathleen Watson

Monday, December 3rd, 2012


Submitted on: 2012/11/09 at 11:08 am

by Kathleen Watson
The sun is leaving Chicago and so am I

Tea Timed

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

Tea timed
Within the cadence of
Conspiracy theories held

Like family
Grasping for perceived knowledge

This America

Coast to coast downloading of the media blaming the

(The more educated are less likely to bag tea)

For a moment
A candidate found pride in funny hair and

Pressuring an

Into proving the latter

(Sometimes what is said in public is embarrassing by association)

Many in Mississippi have a negative opinion regarding
Mosques in Manhattan

(Did they see the smoke from ground zero?)

Sometimes people forget the sameness of a sunrise
Sometimes reality is really real
Sometimes we don’t realize what is being done for us
Sometimes time is the sum

I miss country living
Rural community with time to think
Urban travel can be combat
Between Bedbugs and Rats
A day in the “developed” world can be unraveling


by Aaron Middlepoet Jackson

Drishti Dosha

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

Time pulps and peels
her fingers as she softly
traces the thin white string
that ribbons around the prickly
steel needle. She thrusts
through the native yellow
fruit flesh. The string slides
and stings past time in citrus.
The thread pulls patience
through three mature
peppers picked yesterday:
greener than the crooked
thorns of a small rose, still
short on time before colored
crimson can ward off zealous
ghosts; feeding the soul
that defends spirits from
stripping the string of its
defense. Each entity
dangles in mid air—.


by Upma Kapoor

on 2012/11/14 at 3:27 pm


Thursday, November 8th, 2012

Timepiece is looking for Illustrative work with themes alluding to the progression of time, the nature of time, or the perception of time.


Thursday, November 8th, 2012

We are interested in stories and essays that acknowledge the power of time- examples include historical fiction and generational non-fiction.


Thursday, November 8th, 2012

We are looking for poetry that references time through theme as well as form in an attempt to manipulate the reader’s typical perception of time.


Thursday, November 8th, 2012

We are looking for photography that embodies a definitive moment. A moment in time that can only be capture in a photograph. Either a photograph showing the passage of time or stopping time to show a new truth.