A pen bent to resemble a question mark leaksa hesitating mildew, a stuttering yellow,the ink of cream that subsumes paperwith the knowledge that the written wordis just that. A dizzy dream. Breaking offa slice of… Read More »Water Colour by Sukruti Khungar
It does not have its body about it. It lives under a proverbial yet real bridge, having dropped out of a school, a university, and its first and last selection process. The bridge is of… Read More »SOMETHING FOR ANYONE by J. A. Keefe
I knew a girl with a knocked-up face, I said, who are you to thieve around my features? She was a scam artist, a hungry-good-for-nothing scam artist. I had to reach my hand inside of… Read More »That Tulpa Stole My Stuff by Jenna Obeid Mackenroth
She studies the soft curve of the pill’s surface. An ovum, pregnant with possibility. She is Schrodinger’s woman; both potentially well and unwell at the moment of the pill’s ingestion. Ingestion, conception, deception, indigestion. She… Read More »Paucity of Wellness by Jennifer Ostopovich
Your creative writing degree is a dinner table joke / I’d like to slip this incident report on your ring finger in lieu of loving you / since we’re both jackasses with humanities degrees, I’ll… Read More »PRACTICING SPIRITUALITY WITH EXCEL by Mary B. Sellers
Just as there’s a posturing back and forth of sitting and standing between being upright and being seated, so someone is forever raising and lowering the upper half of their body between sitting up and… Read More »WHIM-WHAM by J. A. Keefe
SCAN LINE TAXI Golden stoop I saw passon my way home, behind the pane,back seated in–please, taxi, flash the hazard lights,nestled in the flat whitepowder on the gate, black oxideon the kissed fencetipsthe good handcoup:… Read More »Poetry by Josh Tecklin Samaniego
Community, commune, communication with the dead. Or in this case the undead. Religious retreat. Wave the white flag, turn tail and run from the monotony of days spent dragged docile and tranquilized through this endlessly… Read More »Prose by Natalie Arriola
Fifteenth Dream A hundred times I have heard tell that dreams were odd games played by the imagination, an extravagant pile of disconnected thoughts and objects. This has been my sense quite often since I… Read More »Two Dreams from the Novel A Dreaming Hermit by Louis-Sébastien Mercier, translated from the French by Stephan Crown-Weber
Fighting highlightfrom the sky, blown outphone brightness maxedand special app formanual aperture wind picks upand remember, I amskeletal. coat catches an updraftconcrete face that cuts me downcuts the gale forever untilthe city becomes ruin.not yet… Read More »EXPOSURE by Josh Tecklin Samaniego