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Carmelita by Alison Hazle
On April 30, 2019 by adminI am writing to ask if you’d like to dance again in the kitchen. I have never been much for a phone call, as you know. I was thinking I could bring boas and peacock flumes for our shoulders and the waists of our pants. All the times you’ve tried to teach me the Charleston
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Ode to James Harden’s Beard by Joshua Nguyen
On April 24, 2019 by adminLet’s speak of the grizzly bear in the middle of the room. Thick black rambutan branches dripping citrus under the sun. What extra powers are suppressed beneath? Lulling opponents to sleep with each bend against the wind. Hope is lost if you stare directly into the void because by then, arms will outstretch to consume
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What Evan Nicholls Can Do In His White Ford Ranger Pick-Up by Evan Nicholls
On April 16, 2019 by adminOne: Evan Nicholls can live in it. He can wave to an orgy of cows under the field oak. Nod to the bull on the hill. Sleep back in the steel bed, by nobody or somebody. Two: Evan Nicholls can kill in it. Probably on accident, a person or himself. The mathematics of
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Froth by Trevor Plate
On April 2, 2019 by admin* Not the first time I loved you, just the first time I met you. Your breath like dead fish pickled in your alcoholism. Your knuckles raw from beating someone up the night
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A Soft Splendor by A.M. Kennedy
On March 30, 2019 by adminMelt the gold between your palms and smear it on everything you love: your hips, your lips, the soles of your feet. This month I am sick of sand and sun and callouses; in my dreams I am new skin, tender and thin. The fluttering of my heartbeat rises in every place my angles meet,
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[I could paint some surreal image] by Alison Hazle
On March 23, 2019 by adminI could paint some surreal imageof this room—how the sun latchesto my back on the walk inside, how I screw itinto the lamp and how it sproutsthe seeds I scattered across the floor. I could say it stays thereand keeps this room warm. I could say it lives there until the ceiling tiles partto reveal
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What Am I If I Am Not by Micaela Walley
On March 20, 2019 by adminWhat am I if I am not a girl? The pulpy body of a dead sea mollusk, dissolving? Am I crunchy? The shell it left behind,
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[After my husband died, I did not] by Tim Neil
On March 14, 2019 by adminAfter my husband died, I did noteat anything for two days. Hunger felt familiar after years of marriage to an echo. On the third day, I just wanted to make a simple meal. I had no pasta, no fine bread,just American cheese, a garlic clove, and one fucking egg. He had left itfor me, along
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Zion in El Salvador by Emely Rodriguez
On March 13, 2019 by adminAbuelita wraps me up in tamalitos, so warm,But she cools me down with Fresa Tropical, ahCanciones de mariachi cry in the background, and weDance like we’re wearing clothes made of cucarachas Executing imprecise movements like forced twitchesFixating, fixating, fixating, on las guitarras Gently strummed, unlike the singers’ vocal chords Harsh, hoarse, heartfelt vibrations that tingle
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“Aria” by Sam Regal
On March 1, 2019 by adminSometimes I’m shopping online, which is something I love to do, shop online, as every store is a new puzzle to solve, like, which clothes would I buy if I shopped here, and sometimes I end up buying the clothes, so I guess you could say it’s very meta and works on a few levels,