by Bethany Jarmul | Sep 27, 2024 | Issue #7, Issues, Poetry
O, garden of plastic petals, of pink frogs-turned-blossoms, of grape-shaped leaves, of tentacle-vines& reflective purple pearls—brick-by-brick you buildmy smile when I pass with a heavy hamper of toddler-peed sheets & bloodied...
by Matias Travieso-Diaz | Sep 27, 2024 | Craft, Issue #7, Issues
My Writing History Early in life I developed a passion for the written word and started devouring every printed thing that came into my hands. Later, I became editor of the student newspaper of my Havana high school and wrote editorials, articles and even gossip...
by S.H. Woodgeard | Sep 27, 2024 | Fiction, Issue #7, Issues
Christie was full of baloney. She was bent over the plastic carton, rolling up slices, dipping them in honey mustard, and popping them in her mouth as though they were escargot—drippy, slimy, little snails. She’d finished half the package already, which was not...
by Taylor Franson-Thiel | Sep 26, 2024 | Issue #7, Issues, Poetry
On the day we move in, clouds interrupt our view of what transitions into space. The whisped water a thin sheet between us. That is how close we are to...
by Abdulmueed Balogun Adewale | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
For Giyazah I pray you, merciful God, always give me the strength To listen to my inner self, when everythingAround me becomes rebellious, Israelites at the entry of the promised land,Stifling the breath of my green hope. I’ve lived through the untimely departure of...
by Svetlana Sterlin | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
i. my injuries weren’t metaphors & yes i really do still live within a 1km radius of both, still within the chemical glow radiating from the pool where we exchanged spit on accident, obviously by the swirl at the drains, which accepted my vomit when Dad didn’t...
by N.L. Rivera | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
which is to sayi’m not sure poetry is enough anymore,which is to say, my life! is better than ever!which is to say, i’ve lived so long on the defensive that i’m not sure how to deconstruct this wall,how to chip away at twenty-some years of mortar,and i don’t think i’m...
by Rhys Evans | Mar 31, 2024 | Fiction, Issue #6, Issues
“Let’s not marinade in delusion and call it bravery for my sake, please,” I say, picking at the newly formed scab on my knee. The ones that leave a crater behind. “He’s dead and no amount of tapping my fucking temple or breathing is gonna help.” ...
by Svetlana Sterlin | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
a lane rope rackets across concrete. a hook clangs into place. i drive past a school; P.E. class in progress. tunnel vision ball game. your hand first to the wall. your feet splatting across pool deck to claim the one shower with decent water pressure. always racing....
by Sophie Bebeau | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
like goldfinches being watched by the witch’s cursed scarecrow like a northern star is a nosebleed dripping plasma dust and magic metal on the late-night heads of the pool children like a cattail is a coagulant and also a well-roasted corndog like a corndog is just a...
