by Chloe McIntosh | Sep 27, 2024 | Issue #7, Issues, Poetry
In a poem we are tipping horchata down a drain, holding hands, laughing and in love the way we were in life transcending the romantic or the familial to confuse every friend and parent, the girl who hit on you in the vampire themed bar-cum-pizzeria and glanced at...
by Taylor Franson-Thiel | Sep 27, 2024 | Issue #7, Issues, Poetry
The only reason I know my body is real are the bruises. Raspberry covered, pools of blood, scales along linoleum scraped knees. I slam into open cupboard doors just to acquaint myself with the plywood edges of my limbs. In a past life, perhaps I was a lake...
by Bethany Jarmul | Sep 27, 2024 | Issue #7, Issues, Poetry
O, garden of plastic petals, of pink frogs-turned-blossoms, of grape-shaped leaves, of tentacle-vines& reflective purple pearls—brick-by-brick you buildmy smile when I pass with a heavy hamper of toddler-peed sheets & bloodied...
by Matias Travieso-Diaz | Sep 27, 2024 | Craft, Issue #7, Issues
My Writing History Early in life I developed a passion for the written word and started devouring every printed thing that came into my hands. Later, I became editor of the student newspaper of my Havana high school and wrote editorials, articles and even gossip...
by S.H. Woodgeard | Sep 27, 2024 | Fiction, Issue #7, Issues
Christie was full of baloney. She was bent over the plastic carton, rolling up slices, dipping them in honey mustard, and popping them in her mouth as though they were escargot—drippy, slimy, little snails. She’d finished half the package already, which was not...
by Taylor Franson-Thiel | Sep 26, 2024 | Issue #7, Issues, Poetry
On the day we move in, clouds interrupt our view of what transitions into space. The whisped water a thin sheet between us. That is how close we are to...
