Ellipsis Literary Magazine

What do you do when you know you’re going to die? I mean I know I’m not invincible, but death is not in my sights. It could be lurking...

The hot summer sun sends to earth its rays To sting the young worker’s exposed fresh back; Digging down in the hole to pass his days ...

I remember the pine needles and bug bites of summers spent ages ago. I remember branches ripped from growing boughs and stripped of their...

I would write an obituary for the four word infection called hope, parasitic at its prime and poisonous at its primitive, if I believed...