poetry

My mother asks us to be quiet, to not let words come before thoughts.And I think of women kept in cagesIn houses where they kill the birds. My mother asks us to not make trouble.She pours wax in our open mouths and it hardensI obey and my teeth leave impressions. When I try to swim, […]

To hoard –silent stare,light flickeringmouth agapeand emptyswallows withheldwithering vineimperfect harvest.Evenworm riddledthe apple sweetensand buzzes.Evenunlapped,the juice ripens.A symphonyunstruck. Serah Wolfe is a poet, painter, and writer dwelling in the American Midwest.

It turns out, if a person takes all the anti-anxiety pills at once,anxiety disappears forever.Everything disappears forever. My mother was the age I am now.I, a child. All gets crushed beneath the weight of a single fact.I don’t remember leaving the house. Don’t remember packing my clothes,my guitar, my baseball cards.Her Stephen King novels, which I’d read with jittery […]

Dakota Smith (she/her) is a poet, performance artist, and writer who received her MFA from Randolph College. Her work can be found in The Rumpus, Good River Review, Imposter Lit, and The Westchester Review. She lives in New York City and is on Instagram as @likethestates. 

i want a miracle so plain,so unassuming& without drama— a bush full of leaves the sea as it is the sun swirling through the skylike the gasses its made of the miracle must be happening: steam rising from the wet woodlike ghosts leaving the body murders of crows eating the bambion the roadside two coyotes […]

It hits better whenyou predict the weather wrongly.Now is a weather for big feelings—wordless big feelings.But I’ll try to word them for you.Listen up— with your body, I mean. So I see a deep cloudy portal forming west.A sky folk braces her chariot,raging, charging into nothingness.I see a sky folk perform a southern smile.His hair laid […]

I left my jacket in the woods one day & cried when I realized  I came back to the spot a few days later & there it was, hung on a tree like a coat rack  all over it,spiders had nestedin the fabric / hiding from the cold October air  every time I lose something I feel so small  but at least the mistakes I made have kept […]

after Kaylin Haught  I asked God if it was okay to like other girls and he said absolutely not I asked Aphrodite if it was okay to like other girls and she said of course I asked God if it was okay that I take a break from going to church and he said never I asked Aphrodite if it was […]

Craig, you’re killing me. You singthat flavor we all still taste, the way you start drinking coffee black to live past middle age and there is a nuttyquality, a sweetness not sugar but somethingmore true, reminding you coffeecomes from a fruit, and you know what’s not good for us and evoke those old pick-up-truck-in-a-field parties as something like […]

When you see a bird flying. All others. Geoffrey Wessel is an American diplomat and amateur philosopher who enjoys thunderstorms and once translated the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights into 720 lines of iambic pentameter. He holds degrees from the University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill and the London School of Economics. He lives […]

Hair kept unkempt to flow in the       wind. Clouds reign over the sea by this road. Tires sear the pavement       with our passion so hard we leaveblue embers behind. Ankles on       dashboards, sunglasses in rainbow.Skin on skin, the tenderness of a       hand, of a laugh. Peach fuzz & smiles.The horizon: blushing red like a       first kiss, ensnaring our eyes someplace warmer […]

on our last day of happiness she drove me to the Tennessee borderfists clenched on the wheel through the crowded interstate turnsbefore tumbling into the never-far-away fringes of nowhere, forestbreaking a fever in the mid-afternoon sun. she parks illegally, tugs down her sunglasses, and we wind into the humid heavyjade and emerald shadows. it’s taking too […]

after Eleanor Wikstrom & while writing this, mā,      i am still learning how your absencebites my body bare under      yellowed street lamps,carves tragedy or myth or memory      out of a girl’s womb. mā, is this thedistance between girl & womanhood? tonight, against the cold-     faced concrete, i sketch the city skyline, traceevery path we took down the alleys. […]

flowers froth-blooming:carmine and daffodil, orchid and violetgreen glimmering alien iridescenceautumn winding throughthe karmic wheel, edifice of lifestraddling life, the earthbleeding earth, briefcracking clouds, a secondlate blooming still alivelate but not too late. nourishing the bones of my quiet aether behindthe ginkgo tree, kicking crabapples asidejoy, resurrection, andfaeries made from pegs withclear gray eyesthe children of […]

We hurt people that love usLove people that hurt usWe say we want to date our best friendAnd end up dating someone we are afraid our friends will hateI think I can collapse everything to rules and principlesI live in a world of impressions and outlinesEveryone is a representation of their identitiesWhen I overhear conversations […]

after Ilya Kaminsky Gabrielle Bonifacio is a wistful Media Studies graduate with a minor in German and playlist-making. She writes in the hope of liberation and safety for all peoples, from Palestine to the Philippines. Her work has most recently appeared in thewildnessjournal. 

Last week, I couldn’t afford therapy,so I bought flowers instead.Ranunculi and roses, fern and blazing star.A modest bouquet of beauty,beholden only to the breeze between.Unlike me—modernity’s stupid bride.Wringing my dread, counting my debt.It’s endless, endless. Dial a friend,thread our lament. We pledge allegiance todespair, we drown in ocean breath.On a walk toward nowhere, my mom […]

In plastic chairs over fake grassconvenience store sangriapoured over icecheers to summer and your newjob I’ll miss you in the officemiss walking home with you toour respective homeslaughing next you’re shoutingat the man above in hisapartment who yelled downthat he didn’t like ushe was drunkyour laugh you sawthe ridiculousness in everythingand when the police cameyou […]

after Daniel Mallory Ortberg “God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation” and here i amstaring at the crease in my elbow like i used to stare at hisand wondering what […]

A man of God told me once that self-mythologizing is the greatest sin. He asked me what I prayed for and I could not answer,  from my paper mouth. It became a fig tree, blossoming, rooting me in depth and height distractions. The fig tree was God but the tree  was me but the tree […]

I can’t remember how long it’s beensince I’ve sung a whole song, painted a whole picture, written a poem wholeenough to make me love who I am & all the while, my throat is fullof broken notes                       small blue-winged swallows. They stab at flesh […]

How could the moon have been likenedto cheese—wedge?—hardly appropriate.Possessing the delicacy of an orphanedeyelash, a demure sun-inspired stature,the moon is perfectly placed, not forced. Why was that easier to write than the title? It’s not that I’m bored of Ode to the Moonbut why would I read it when I can readOde to his Five […]

Audrey T. Carroll is the author of What Blooms in the Dark (ELJ Editions, 2024), Parts of Speech: A Disabled Dictionary (Alien Buddha Press, 2023), and In My Next Queer Life, I Want to Be (kith books, 2023). Her writing has appeared in Lost Balloon, CRAFT, JMWW, Bending Genres, and others. She is a bi/queer/genderqueer […]

watching a YouTuberdocument the history of Minecraft speedrunning. another day my date tells mea dream of studyingfilm archival workso she canpreserve porn. we go to a museumof postersand learn about a viral ad campaignthat predates my birth.      i am transported. my primary partner describesan appalachian horror podcast i keep meaning to listen toand we watch […]

For now the sun cliche-like has risenin full view of my living. For now our cats lean and rub live-bodied my feetas light opens slow to the room where I feed them enough to help them remain.For now I forget slash set aside this need to close forever slash I mouth phrasesand none are for […]

After Alessia Di Cesare the pine trees stayed the same shade of green and the thing is that i love you again.it’ that it hangs in my throat until we have glitter on our feet and sand in our eyes.that it was me breaking sticks and watching you shoot arrows, that i tried to tell […]

after Jenny Tiskus The first day with the stethoscopethe thought of eyes catchingon my buzzed head and refusingto let me listen to the child’s heartbeatlands like a winch hook behind mysternum, reeling me up and awayfrom the rancid culture simmeringin parental guts before I can evenpress the tiny belly, find the hurt.Years on I am […]

Dingzhong Ding (he/him) is a writer from Shanghai, China. His work has been recognized by the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio and Yale Young Writers’ Workshop. You can find him on Instagram @ddzhxng.

All mental collapse happensin the winter. The brief pop of red tree leaves before dropping. That’s it. I was enclosedin my bed  when I marked the distancebetween me and spring. Flashlight under the covers with a mapof my head in my hands. I fell asleep for a long time. A brain is like a spider’s web,shaped for protectionbut by […]

metaphysics celebrity worship when to arrive at a party fashion trends the point of gambling dark matter how to look a stranger in the eye who decides when a war is over and who decides it’s begun in the first place how to take an outfit from day to night and what is the point […]

Michael Russell (he/they) is coauthor of chapbook Split Jawed with Elena Bentley (forthcoming from Collusion Books) and mother monster to chapbook Grindr Opera (Frog Hollow Press). They are queer, mad, and overflowing with anxiety. Currently, he has a craving for chocolate chip pancakes with bananas and thinks you’re fantabulous. Insta: @michael.russell.poet Michael’s previous piece: sadcore […]

leeks,bulbs lit of pencils,of expulsion,space between shared space ;commonality,cataract a similar sounding moan,cascade from  precipice|picked up a hair tie on a hiking trail the other day,burst thereafter,then morning;trillium & sumac–we ’re less animal than we expect,tapetum lucidum,mammalia of the mirror| amatoxin in amanita verna;aversion of blood type O to all else:lover stay back,i don’t know […]

Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent cottagecore straight edge punk writer who has earned their BA in writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. They are the author of the chapbook everyone’s left the hometown show (Bottlecap Press, 2023). You can find their poetry and essays in Impossible Archetype and Emerald City, among several others. They […]

In the greasy morning mirrors I barely even acknowledge myself And I can’t remember how to sing Songs I used to know by heart Surely what’s wrong with me is not The same as what’s wrong with you Surely I comprise a special case When I pace the apartment I know I’m practicing for future […]

For some people I suppose distraction is a respiteFrom life’s hundred million enigmas they daily fight- Or-flight or, finally, try to crackThe codes to. And, sure, I feel that. But for me it’s the reason I first felt self-hate so hardI saw a window not as a thousand painful shards But as a way out—I […]

After Alexandrine Ogundimu I had to scrap my memoirbecause too much of ithad to be redacted. I could talk about thestupid Doc Martens I woreto my retail job every daywithout a cease and desist, but to talk about what myfather said to my motherwould put me against a wall. My father would tie a silk […]

About what’s past, Hold on when you can, I used to say,And when you can’t, let go,let the wind blow through your heart. Like a leaf clings to the tree,I lived, in those days, at the forest’s edge–You must keep what you’ve promisedvery close to your heart, that way you’ll never forgetis what I’ve always […]

Valerie Loveland’s book [unsolved mysteries theme song], poems about the TV series Unsolved Mysteries, is coming out in 2023 Valerie’s previous piece: Jose Chung’s From Outer Space (Issue 65)