A New Kind of Literary Pulse

It was around 5:00 a.m. when I heard my cousin Pantea calling, "Parisa, zadanemoon!" In Farsi, that means, "We're under attack!" I opened my eyes, my heart racing. "Who ...  [+]

dear husband, 
what if - what if?  what if I could not be  your maid-in shine,  slaying deranged household grime? 
my squire, my fine.  I wonder if I could not your baker be,  if I could not ...  [+]

Ones and zeros, on to hero. Lines upon lines, a cluster of characters intricately patterned. A structure, an architecture of some sort. A language that gauges- limitless in its reach. Intelligence ...  [+]