Lorenza Centi is a artist whose work feels tumblr-ready in a way that means it knows our souls, it knows the poems typed into the notes on our iphones, it knows the hurt we embody in young skin and tired muscle. It is pink, and young, but no less serious; it is easily called edgy, […]
Read moreBUT I AM NOT TOBY by DAVON LOEB
Mom always talked about the importance of ancestry. She’d say that most Black people don’t know their history. She’d sit me down, and go over a list of books: The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, From Slavery to Freedom, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Things Fall Apart, Black Boy, and Black […]
Read moreTHE HONEY BADGER by MOLLY HARRIS
You and Leroy are in the Moon’s parking lot. Leroy always says that if you go between the hours of 1 and 3 am, you won’t have to deal with the police department. Leroy was never wrong. The Moon is the highest point in St. Charles County. It is a 75-foot tall pile of grey […]
Read moreFAMILIA/FAMILY: ON FAMILY, LANGUAGE, AND WALLS by EUGENIA VELA
We are on the I-37 halfway between Austin and South Padre Island, Texas. We started our trip late today, the pink sky already changing to a deep orange on our rearview mirror. It’s my favorite time. When my husband and I drive together to Savannah, Nashville or the closest Texas town, we reach a point […]
Read moreTHE STAIRCASE AND WHAT IT DID by KATIE CLARK
i am watching you walk where your feet, smaller then, stumbled | muddied | blistered pre-bound, pre-ballet, danced differently. what if i knew where i was when you were still- child laying your legs’ down roadside, blonde hairs blooming
Read moreACE OF CUPS by ALINA PLESKOVA
In an alternate version of today, I corner each whim w/ a lullaby Hush—there’s nothing interesting about a resistible urge Instead, a card left face up so its forces leak, lap the hours
Read moreBLUE SHIRT MAN by URVI KUMBHAT
Raindrops gathered on my nose like a piercing. It was that just awake, yawning Delhi rain Leaving me not quite wet not quite dry I am quite honestly lost in these gullies Rain has that faraway look in my eye quality— It scoops out my soul and scatters it in the dirt. Swanky house Block […]
Read moreHOLY FEVER by KEITH J. CASTILLO
I had a dream where ashes rained down from the sky the night made so black it felt primal in the dream my father is saying ‘sacrifice.’
Read moreENTOMOLOGY by IAN HILL
A blush of night-bloom. That exquisite last word. In the type of family that could afford To fall apart, a young girl grows More hands than things to cling to. She’s Just thumbnail innocence, motel white Wallpaper thighs and perforated silence In glitter flecked too-open hands.
Read moreSOFT by VICTORIA BUTLER
A boy is burning in my bed and as I watch his face disappear I curse the world for teaching me how to be everything but water.
Read moreCOGNITIVE BEHAVIOUR THERAPY (CBT) by SAMANTHA CHEH
I sometimes wonder how, when I am not paying attention, from behind me, like a cinematic ghost, you creep back into the creases of my skin, where the sister-parts of my arms meet, the length of them seeming to break in two. Stiff like joss sticks burning down to ash, propped up in bricks laid […]
Read moreTHE GREAT PACIFIC GARBAGE PATCH AND OTHER NICETIES” by ALISON GRAHAM
I was the fishes’ lungs, the earrings 1 on your daughter and polyphonic you were checking the time. – a hell of a way to go, uprooting leg hair 3 and the picnic plate tongued by flies. When the news called me exceptional they spoke into a microphone of me: the […]
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VAGABOND CITY 