Category: Uncategorized
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Full Moon Ritual by C.R. Foster
When someone hurts you,Don’t hold it in your bodyOr let it leak like acidThrough your veins.Take something tender Go to a high place,The suicide bridge withThe fence that prevents peopleMaking permanent decisions.Look down When you push the sun over the edgeAnd hear the great silence as it fallsThough it’s milliseconds, a rotation As long as a…
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Photography by Kristin L. LaFollette
Artist Statement: These photographs were all taken in my historic neighborhood in downtown Evansville, IN. The images capture the character of the buildings and homes and also suggest the need for continued attention and revitalization. Kristin LaFollette is a writer, artist, and photographer and is the author of the chapbook, Body Parts (GFT Press, 2018). She is…
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Fourth Fruits by Jacalyn den Haan
Mid-July: the fourth fruits of the sky drip down towards earth a filmy gloss greening the surface of what we know. All around dust falls quiet. Leaves curl together in prayer waiting. Above, the gray sky fills its lungs. Mid-afternoon: between field and gravel path soft mist whispers to wilting and skeptical soil of resurrection.…
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Two Stories by Christina Rosso
Crying Wolf Fairy Tale Once upon a time, there was a girl, the prettiest who was ever seen. One day her mother asked her to bring some cakes to her grandmother who lived in the woods. On her way, she met a wolf. He was handsome and charming and offered to play a game. Let’s…
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A November Afternoon in October by Bernard Pearson
The drooping willows not quite weeping yet will soon be paying old winters debt The sky a kind of mathematical grey forcloses on the dirt poor day. BERNARD PEARSON: His work appears in many publications, including; Aesthetica Magazine , The Edinburgh Review, Crossways, The Gentian, Nymphs The Poetry Village, Beneath The Fever, The Beach Hut The Littlestone Journal. In 2017 a selection of his poetry…
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Poetry by Effy Winter
Love me back—and if you can’t, then say so, and let me go with whatever peace I can salvage. Assia Wevill, “Ted Hughes, March 1968,” She did not sign the letter but, at the bottom of the page she drew a dying bird, with outspread wings, looking like a woman who had jumped from a…
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BETWEEN THE SEXTS by Yusuf Akman
Yusuf Akman was born in Denizli, Turkey. They are a senior philosophy student at Boğaziçi University whose literary focus revolves around what having a queer identity in Turkey is like. Their works appeared in the online journals Trampset, Raised Brow Press, Resurrection Magazine and Cypress Press.Twitter: @Akman_Yusuf_
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Poetry by Dani Tauber
INTRO: these untitled pieces are from an in-progress but almost finished chapbook called “marbling,” which happens to be about absolutely fucking soul-crushing sorrow. the gray days are the most difficult;the days when nothing really feelsreal – least of all you. it’s a differentkind of quiet, a different kind of coldand both of them, piercing. time…
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Confessional by Kevin Danahy
The true church never died, I have found a sect ancient beyond ancestry: itinerant priestesses in ramshackle booths who listen through gauzy walls and tally your actions. In a tiny city stacked on terraces the citizens come each morning to confess, divulging their blessings as well as their sins. Absolution and indulgences cost the same…
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Fuck the Clock by Alexandra Martinez
“Oh my god” Fuck time zones and fuck what hour or day it is the question should always be is the sun or moon up where you are?the answer will always be yes An addendum: fuck the clock Patti Smith wore it first, look it up. On Instagram she’s always posting pictures of her handwriting or coffee or the moon…
RESURRECTION MAGAZINE 