Being It is nevernot enough— that feelingof being held, an icicle meltingin the sun, a child smellinga wild forest for the first timeand feeling home away from home. I suppose I havefinally grown upand am ready to be the rock and notthe wind. But here we arewitness tocertain change. Joanna C. Valente is an alien […]Read more "Poetry & Photography by Joanna C. Valente"
i say nothing to the man crouchedin the hallway or to the woman sittingon the stairs because i am not supposedto – they are not there. you are notsupposed to talk to people who arenot there. you are not supposed to seepeople who are not there. and thelittle boy at the quarry where i gosometimes […]Read more "Halloween poem by Dani Tauber"
It looks like you’re on your own tonight. You’re back Home. Your mother shed your old cocoon the moment you left all those months ago. A collage of songs you used to love and the smells of fabric softener from your old clothes waft into your room from the vent. You arrive hungry, with a […]Read more "Home by Halcyon"
I’m engaged in a battle in a comments donnybrook over the Runaways movie. Despite Lita Ford having a few hits, she’ll forever be known as the chick who did “Close my Eyes Forever” with Ozzy Osbourne, growling in a smoky cave or some shit while Ozzy looks like a drag queen in the video. Aside […]Read more "No Matter How Hard They try, a Playlist will Never be a Mixtape by Robert Dean"
We had a secret wedding I crossed my legs towards yours And you, yours, towards me and we created a space between the church, the steeple I will sit like this till my kneecaps burn Because at age thirteen I read an article about body language And thought, this is my chance If you tuck […]Read more "Body Language by Laura Vincent (Ngāti Māhanga)"
A Dedication to Violence, or The Chirps of a Swallow at My Window Mockingbird, take me away like a child chasing nightmares on the backs of sickened wings. Let me cling to the feathers and drift away from this haunted house of constraint under the shadow of a crooked cross. Let me spear the night sky with […]Read more "Poetry by Robert Dean"
we ride skateboards on the edge of the street, one sneaker afraid to leave the pavement. all summer, we move through the triptych: me, legs sprawled on the carpet as we go between your sister’s room—which had the AC, the next size up for your gauges, hair dye— your bedroom—where I would draw or write […]Read more "triptych of a pop punk summer by Maura Lee Bee"
“And Then the Floods Came” Face masks are required for entry to most places now. The world is ending and we’re busy watching scary movies on your couch, trying to be oblivious to the worsening situation outside. The pandemic isn’t getting better. Have you checked the numbers lately? Have you checked the news? It’s not […]Read more "Poetry by Rachel Tanner"
Pain Pain in another’s heart is imagined but never experienced the same. Empathetic souls imagine how they would feel to identify. Others contend their pain is superior but yours is nothing serious. Religion declares your pain is penance; enduring it the key to salvation. Hatred promotes this pain, your kind should suffer for existing. Love […]Read more "Poetry by John Homan"
you dress for work in straight skirt & paisley blouse. It’s camouflage, like a turtle buried on the beach, how lost you were, newly left. As your teen daughter, I determined not to follow you, wore men’s clothes. Why? Women are weak, get forgotten. You & I, we spun alone, separate eggs tossed in ocean […]Read more "you dress for work in straight skirt by Lynn Finger"