by Kait Quinn | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
after Dorianne Laux’s “The Mysterious Human Heart in New York” Aureate but spurred, the heart straps on her boots, bears the stickers, stomps away copperheads to catch her golden hour dalliance with the bluebonnets before evening mosquitos eclipse...
by summa iru | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
the field is barren but for the bloom of this horse and its iridescent pubes fluttering like shirts pinned to a clothesline elsewhere the horse is a comma in the middle of its own pause, or say a leaf in the ripple of its fall— is it not mightier than a crashing...
by Svetlana Sterlin | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
Put a raisin cake in the oven, and it’s very small. Then you let it go, and the distance between the raisins is like the distance between the galaxies—it gets larger and larger with time. —Neta Bahcall mix the dry ingredients. make a well in the middle. imagine diving...
by Maddy Sneep | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
We drove out west tothe wealthy part of townto drink fancy beer andeat tiny portions andplay make-believe. On this side of town, the McDonald’s isn’t red, but forest-green withexposed brick, likean old university halllikely named for someslave-owningconfederate...
by Maddy Sneep | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
A rabbit hops into my bathroom, chugsmy pharmaceutical jungle juice and passes out cold. I wouldn’t know whatthat’s like because I run hot. I don’t sleep well at all but I dream every night. Lostlocker combinations and classes left unattended by the end of the year....
by Sophie Bebeau | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
please click on all the images containing an animal. please click on all the images containing a motorcycle. are you sure that’s what a crosswalk looks like? years from now you’ll be glad you did this. select the bat. select the car. select divorce. select 200mg....
