issue 6 – VAGABOND CITY

SHARPIE ART | Amira Simon

BITS ON SOUR BOYS | Naomi Langer

i. Sonic We eat in his car, parked, light off, radio on, watching the sun set over the edge of suburbia. Romantic-like. If we wanted, the identical tops of a hundred gable roofs in the distance could almost look like mountains, the heat waves off of the hot summer pavement the surface of a cool […]

Everything, Poetry

COUNTING CROWS | Olivia Ladun

I like to call this counting crows. A boy told me he liked me while I was high and crying listening to some indie bullshit. My ex girlfriend smoked everyday, 3:11 pm, after school in her backyard,  and I guess that is sort of cringeworthy. Tell me you like me. I like to call this […]

Creative Nonfiction, Everything, Poetry

THIS IS THE CLOSEST I’LL GET TO PAINTING YOU | Ayah Elbeyali

the beat of your heart– one. two. three. four. the gleam of your sweat– heat. shimmer. hips. quiver. the almond of your eyes– green. kind. honey. mine. the space behind your ribs– ache. flood. furnace. blood. the palm of your hand– red. flower. touch. devour. the bend of your thumb– square. raw. hook. trace. the soft […]

Everything, Poetry

GIRLS WHO LIKE BOYS AND GIRLS | Jemma Hoolahan

girl liking boys and girls girl hating labels; hating boxes, but girl loving; always loving. girl falling for crooked smiles; the quiver of eye lashes like leaves in the wind, protecting cobalt irises full of love; full of empathy.

Everything, Poetry

I AM EXACTLY LIKE A WIND STORM | Maia Irwin

I. The night is alive and so am I. II. Maybe instead of the wildfire I long to be I should be a rolling storm. III. Or maybe just the shadows. Maybe the night is harsher than the day.

Everything, Poetry

GABY, HAVE YOU DONE YOUR BEST? | Kaitlyn Crow

My first roommate in the adolescent unit had most growing on her arms and spots of mold between her toes. I didn’t realize until months later that there is nothing beautiful about that.

Everything, Poetry

UNTITLED #1| Kaitlyn Crow

i. I am the mood swings striking in the middle of the night, keeping you nocturnal past three in the morning. They call me mania, bipolar. I am your misdiagnosis, the ADHD pills that made you go insane, the tug of impulse when manic becomes the new normal.

Everything, Poetry

FROM KIERKEGAARD TO REGINE | Alex Lenkei

“Darling, dearest, dead,” Sovereign queen of my heart: You’re the sunset in a cup, you’re the ink bleeding into my marginalia of Aristotle, Kant, and Luther, and in the candlelight alone your face shines ever new across the gradient of my half-worn pages.

Everything, Poetry

GAPS | Alex Lenkei

To be a construction of signs of sighs, remembering memories of encounters that were dreams— meeting-places in the dark.

Everything, Poetry

LITTER ON THE STREETS OF LAS VEGAS | Nicole Lourette

The bare-breasted nun prays in front of children as their parents snap photos of anything but her body. She is not the memory they want of this place. Her habit hangs far below her puckered lips, and for $45, she’ll show you what spring is like on Jupiter.

Everything, Poetry

ST. ANTHONY’S RELIQUARY | Nicole Lourette

There are yellow roses at Mary’s feet and two fingers missing from her right hand. She looks fragile, but the other at the pulpit looks more like a harlot. Jimi Hendrix would enjoy

Everything, Poetry

THE CRITERIA BY WHICH MY MOTHER SELECTS A FATHER FOR HER CHILD | Nicole Lourette

He has to be a white man, under six feet mid-forties intelligent a George Clooney chin

Everything, Poetry

ALL OF A SUDDEN I MISS EVERYONE (EXPLOSIONS IN THE SKY) |Michael Prihoda

it’s natural to be afraid, watching the birth and death of the day. this is your catastrophe and the cure,

Everything, Poetry

DARKEST HOURS (FOX AND THE BIRD) | Michael Prihoda

when i was young and heading east these ashes weren’t counterfeit. we avoided

Creative Nonfiction, Everything

LOVECHILD | Negesti Kaudo

Pregnancy was everywhere. That’s what happens after having really good unprotected sex. I bragged about it to my best friend: about how my lover and I had been spontaneous and placed our bets on the pull-out method, how I’d broken my rule of saying his name. Hundreds of miles away and with her face bright […]

Art, Everything

Two Photographs | Shanning Wan

Everything, Poetry

UNTITLED | Sarah Francois

white powder runs down his nose his laugh is ragged

Everything, Poetry

SEA SHELLS | Sarah Francois

Ze sold sea shells by the sea shore no not really Ze sold sex by the pier It was amusing the look on people’s faces The deadpan expression to the straightforward question

Everything, Poetry

Bits | Neobie Gonzalez

In my dream I carry a mason jar filled with bits of Einstein’s brain (stolen before the rest of him was ashes), pieces they still haven’t found. I run up the stony steps of Gaudi’s basilica in Barcelona (built 1882 and finished never). Spires high, bricks laid, most of it a skeleton of becoming. Some […]

Everything, Poetry

Dorothy Faces the Tornado | Meggie Royer

He called her bruja so she prayed day in and day out over hemlock and wart of toad that he would let her leave. Braided ribbons of thorn into her hair in lieu of satin. At night it purled and crawled

Everything, Poetry

LYING NEXT TO SOMEONE YOU DON’T LOVE. | Elizabeth Tobin

The water is next to the bed. I am having those dreams where I am awake again. Whispering take your fingers away in sleepy protest moans.

Everything, Poetry

ALMOST HEAVEN | Elizabeth Tobin

The asphalt of summer stood still. Swum the deep end of mother’s disease and dreamed of dangling from telephone wires, calling the world to watch from under the table.

Everything, Poetry

Losing Teeth | Elizabeth Tobin

Swimming in between stubborn kindergarten gums, my mouth is full of blood. We pull up to that blue house while the kitchen curtain is on fire.

Everything, Poetry

FOR THE AVERAGE MELIPHONA BEE | Inara Lalani

I speak the language of a vanilla-flavoured day. Just beige pastels, and an ordinary tint of a café-au-lait. I have spent a lifetime crawling over a blanket of shells, just to coat my bones in the achromatic pain of synonymity so that my crescendo of affliction remains unheard,

Everything, Poetry

AN AQUARIUM FOR THE DEAD| Inara Lalani

I have this theory, That for six days, I could maybe keep a goldfish alive long enough so that I could see you again. On day one, I would watch the salesman pull it out from its home, and tuck it into a bag filled with more air than water.

Everything

ISSUE 6: NOTES FROM OUR EDITORS

FROM: Rachel Charlene Lewis [Editor] The writers in this issue are overwhelmingly not straight, not white, not male, not established; the writers in this issue are women, they are queer, they are young, they are of color; this, in itself, to me, is magic.