Art, Everything, Issue 29

VAGABOND CITY interviews ALYSSA MOORE

Where are you from? Columbus, OH What are your hobbies? I’m usually creating something, photography, dance, and I’m always up for trying something new! What kind of dance have you done? I did Jazz and lyrical in high school and then I choreographed in an organization called Ayo at Cedarville University. When did you start […]

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Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

THE LEVITY OF TRUTH by GRACE LAU

There really is no good time to tell your mother you’ve never liked boys. Closets do not relinquish their grips easily but I have always instinctively hated dresses. So when my mother asked me about boyfriends      again as we wrenched the tails from luscious prawns and cracked their shells with our teeth, I offered the […]

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Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

CADENCE by DANIELLE ELEANOR

your name tastes like the ocean in my mouth the highest arch of green smoothed by sun then            white foam fizzing out snapping bubbles kiss my ankles you go on for miles if I think about you and nothing else I can taste you whenever I want my lungs   s […]

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Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

I’M PAINTING A HATRED OF YOU by ARIELLE TIPA

my twin, my twitch – prettily you demonstrate your lazy eye the rococo latticework of your scapula – you are most beautiful in braille my hammock, my summer my opium glitch, my tambourine din i’ve been cat-tongued in places you have never lived in tantrums you have never nursed you are killing me to death […]

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Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

LEAVING THE LIGHTS ON by LIZ BRUNO

Sometimes I suspect I am nothing but a hotel. My mother stays in my lips. My father sleeps in my eyes. My last lover stumbles around With my flowery bathrobe flung on. Yes, there are guests lurking In every floor of this high rise, Even the uninvited ones. My ex-husband twists around my intestines. His […]

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Everything, Issue 29, Poetry

AUGUST by SARAH M. ZHOU

August presses against me like something thick and heavy, sweet perfume clinging to air swollen with humidity. Thunder roiling in clouds like wet wool, apricots ripening and rotting in a blue bowl on the kitchen counter. A shimmering haze, thick enough to taste like herbs on your tongue, with bones weighty and bruised like thudding […]

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