by Allison Hummel Part 1: Untitled It was yesterday or something, when I heard the song playing in a store, asking do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet? I don’t sing it to myself, exactly, but I do repeat it, metallic gyre, all the day long. In the at-home lab of an electrical engineer,IContinue reading “Rocket”

we’re on a roller coaster, i’m nauseous but i don’t wanna get off

by Aleida M we’re crying in a costco parking lot fiending for that intimacy we once feltbecause every so often we lose it andthen i get depressed when i think you deserve much better sometimes i think i deserve better too most of the time it feels like i am already holding all the good that’s out therelargeContinue reading “we’re on a roller coaster, i’m nauseous but i don’t wanna get off”

Ammonite Sonnet

by Melissa Eleftherion the ammonite an index of suturesi got tired of cataloging themhermetically sealing little traumasafraid they’d get to know one another go boomlittle mother catastrophes insteadi smashed little rocks to bits in a ditcheach shard a memory released pressurefrom stomach the common burial groundthe cavity of accumulationeach little box coated in dust andContinue reading “Ammonite Sonnet”


by Elysia Lucinda Smith My mother calls them phases and maybethat’s an accurate representation becausethey’re lunar, edges of something, the kindof scrambling you do drunk in the dark.It’s a lot of being drunk in the dark. I’m dying to discover myself and finallybe cool. I’m smoking. I’m smoking hot.I’m a smoking gun. I went outContinue reading “HI, I’M OVULATING”

whelp (after aziza barnes)

by Zach Blackwood my head is full of blood steamed like latte foampressing open the seams in my skull, burning through folds in my brain like a shot luge. my head is the generating station in the delaware river,developed into luxury condos with beds that fill the whole homes.my head is a smoking suite with smokeContinue reading “whelp (after aziza barnes)”

Taunts to the Klan

by Kirwyn Sutherland Klu klux what?I’m a suchA tool for America Hands scraped rawHammered deep into cottonFly up and it rains goldI’m a MidasBut was forced to turnInanimate objects into fortuneTo fields of green pickedOver and rottenI’m a supposedDead used problemBoth birth and demiseAllegedBetween trying to killAnd forgetting aboutI’ma question A poking to see if I writheHowContinue reading “Taunts to the Klan”